The Smartest One
by Wisteria22
Summary: The 73rd Hunger Games. Twenty Four Tributes, Twenty Three deaths, and one lone Victor...Is Caitlyn up to the challenge? Can she prove that she is the Smartest One...? Or are the odds simply not in her favor...COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER ONE**

_The girl with white hair ran through the woods, breathing hard as she glanced over her shoulder. It was the dead of night, yet she wasn't alone. If she closed her eyes, she'd be dead. If she looked away, turned her back, or even blinked…it would be over. She'd never get to be home; never get to see them again. With a gasp, she stumbled over a fallen stone, sending her flying to the ground. The last thing she saw was the glint of moonlight, the smell of blood, and finally, the sound of canon fire._

Around this time of day, I'd usually be at school, bored to death. Here in District 3, we focus on science in just about every aspect of our lessons; with the exception of P.E., of course. But this was no ordinary day. Today was Reaping day, and I was most certainly not bored. More like somewhere in between remorseful or scared out of my wits. Not only might I be taken away today, but about six years ago, my sister was taken from me. And she, she had volunteered for it.

"Caitlyn…," Dad said softly, coming over with some warm milk.

See, we weren't exactly poor. But since we lived in a District, and not the Capitol, money was pretty scarce. Some people couldn't even have enough to eat each week, and they died from it. When I was younger, I used to wonder why the Capitol would do this to us. Then I realized why; it still didn't make me feel any better.

"Thanks," I said meekly, glad that my voice didn't crack as I sipped at the milk.

"Listen, I know you're scared…We all were. But…," he paused, thinking of what to say next, "You'll be safe, I promise. Trust me?"

We both knew he couldn't really promise it, still, I smiled a bit and nodded. I loved Dad, just like I did Jenny, but even more so now that we're all alone. Sure, there was Sarah-Jane and her kids, Luke and Maria, but it wasn't exactly the same. My family always seemed to be a little ahead of the curve, maybe, just maybe that will be in my favor. So far though, it just seems to make us cling to each other even tighter.

Dad forced a smile, "We need to be…_there_ soon. I put out your favorite dress- the blue one."

"Thanks…Love you," I said, giving him a quick embrace before slipping out from underneath my quilt blanket.

"Love you too, Lynnie," Dad replied, walking outside to give me some privacy while I changed.

The dress had been my mother's, the main reason I loved it so much. It felt like its fading blue fabric was an everlasting hug from her, something I really needed on reaping day. Though it wasn't fancy or anything, I still wore it each year since I was twelve years old. I was still wearing it when…when Jenny…

Slipping on the dress, I felt myself crying again. I had thought that eventually, I'd be all dried up like a prune and not be able to. Yet time had proven otherwise so far, forcing me to wipe my eyes dry on my arm. My fingers braided a small bit of my hair off to the side, while the rest of my hair remained down. Reaping day or not, I still wanted to look a bit like me. After all, if I was chosen, I shouldn't look like a completely different person…Right?

Dad and I walked in silence, him holding me close to him. It was the best comfort he could give, and I wouldn't have wanted anything else. Sadly, I was forced to whisper a goodbye to him, and join the other fifteen year old girls in the roped off area. I didn't really know a lot of them, as I'd been pegged as a major nerd on day one and exiled to the front of the room. For the technology district, we had a surprising amount of, well, idiots. We all grasped hands, gave a quick squeeze, and then let go to look for our loved ones in the crowd. It was a tradition that we ourselves had started, but it helped a lot when Suzette Crawlyn's name was reaped a few years back.

Up on the stage, were a total of about eight or nine people. I only recognized a few of them, most of them being Victors. Our escort, Reiyla Kwerie stood proudly, her electric blue hair seeming to buzz with energy. I'd seen footage of the other escorts, and Reiyla seemed pretty decent compared to others. Then there was our Mayor, whose name I could never seem to remember. All I knew was that he had the same birthday as me, and that his son was a Victor. Speaking of Victors, there was about seven of them, something I was grateful for. In some districts, they only had one still living.

After the video on how the Hunger Games came to be, as a reminder to never rebel to the Capitol, Reiyla stepped forward with a simple smile.

"Well, with no further ado, let's see who our lovely lady will be!" Reiyla said, walking over to one of the glass bowls.

It wouldn't be me, I told myself calmly. Someone else will be chosen. Someone who took out tesserae, someone older, just…just someone else. I won't be picked, I'll go home with Dad and feel sorry for whoever was picked. I'll…

"CAITLYN SMITH!" Reiyla announced, my name ringing through the air.

Instantly, I locked eyes with Dad as my body slowly walked up to the stage. I had his eyes, beautiful brown eyes he told me, well, everybody said that. His floppy brown hair seemed to be limper by the second, as he shouted out and ran towards the stage. I felt myself let out a whimper as Sarah-Jane grabbed his arm, holding him back.

Reiyla put a hand gently on my shoulder, steering me towards where I would stand. But it didn't really matter what I saw, or what I heard. All I could see was Dad, and all I could hear was my sister, screaming as she volunteered for Maria…

Though what I did hear, was the announcement of the boy I would have to kill to come home. The boy who stood between me and my freedom. And the boy who was just like me, scared out of his wits, knowing he was going to die.

"QUIP COLKDIN!"

I was going to die…


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER TWO**

_She sat, rabbit meat slowly cooking in front of her. Her face was marred with scratches and bruises, several of which looked rather nasty. Her clothes were torn, more like rags covered in dirt. She was like a wild animal in appearance, yet when she heard a twig snap, her eyes widened like prey. And she ran…_

It felt much longer, but they had whisked us off inside of the Justice Building in a matter of minutes. Wherever I looked, a Peacekeeper was blocking my way. It made me feel like I was in a cage, just a wounded animal. Though, I probably was at this point. I didn't get any say in this; all I could do was try to win.

Some people might have been a bit bored by the elevator, but I couldn't help but feel a little happier, mentally cataloguing the types of metal and the pulley system. Even that grating noise, one like fingers down a chalkboard, seemed to make me smile a bit. Of course, Quip was downright trembling, his curly black hair having acquired a fine layer of sweat. I didn't really know him, since he was about thirteen years old from the looks of it.

We didn't really say much, just went our separate ways once the elevator stopped, and sat. The room was fairly decent, decorated with red tapestries, velvet rugs, and pure white couches. I almost felt a ping of regret as I sat down, ruining the expert positioning of the pillows. Of course, it didn't matter as a tall figure burst in and ran over, holding me close to him.

"I'm so sorry, Lynnie…," Dad whispered, "I'd take your place if I could…"

"I know, Dad…But…Maybe I'll win…," I said, a bit muffled from my tears.

Dad paused, "You're smarter than them, Caitlyn…Quicker too…That's all it is, right? Who's the smartest of them all…"

Nodding, I asked the question that had been plaguing my mind, "D'you know who the others are?"

He sighed, running a hand through his brown hair, "Only for Districts One through Five. Jotted them all down, just in case…Beau Donnavan and Ditie Meadows from One…Both Volunteers….Caine Areon and Jade Abney from Two…," he skipped saying our tributes, I was glad he did, "Brine Loisdon and Amy Ivers from Four…And…Hugo and Lily Gryffin from Five…"

"So…So only two volunteers?" I asked, feeling a bit hopeful that the Career pack wouldn't be as top-notch as it always was.

Supposedly, people aren't allowed to train for the games. Yet in Districts One, Two, and Four, they do it anyways. But no one from the Capitol minds, since they are the "pride" of the games. Naturally, they almost always seem to win…Every now and then though, they'll let a District Three tribute in their group…But the odds aren't in my favor on that happening…

Dad shook his head, "Jade Abney volunteered- a large blonde boy, might have been her brother, even cheered her on for it…"

Gulping a bit, I nodded. District Two tributes were known to be ruthless, even more so than the other Careers. If anyone doubted that, all they'd need to do is take one look at Enobaria, a District Two Victor, and they'd quickly change their opinion. In fact, some of the Peacekeepers even came from District Two…They were about the closest to the Capitol a District could get.

"Caitlyn…Just remember one thing for me, okay?" Dad said calmly, and then smiled a bit, "Run."

Smiling back, I nodded, trying not to cry as they led Dad out the door, leaving me alone for thirty minutes. The only thing I thought of was strategies- not to go to the Cornucopia, teaming up with the Careers if possible, finding a source of water, covering my tracks…Just things that might improve my chances, to let the odds truly be in my favor.

I'd watched fourteen Hunger Games, and heard stories from other people about some notable ones. The luckiest thing for me was that it wasn't a Quarter Quell, or I'd most certainly be going to die…No…I musn't think like that…All I need is to hope I get a good Mentor, a stylist who actually knows what they're doing, and a couple sponsors. It didn't seem too impossible, I mean, Jenny…Jenny had almost won…If I did what she did, and maybe, maybe just tweak a few ideas, maybe it'd work for me…

By the time they came to take me into the car, I felt more confident. Reiyla was back this time, looking down at her hands before turning back to smile at us.

"I have a good feeling about you two," Reiyla said in her quirky one-of-a-kind accent.

Unlike the normal Capitol Accent, Reiyla had a more unique one. According to her, it had once been known as a "British Accent," but I'd never really heard of the British before. They didn't really teach much history about the days prior to Panem, just that it had been a major disaster with numerous deaths each second.

"'Course you do," Quip said smugly, an enormous contrast to the quivering boy from earlier, "I'm going to win."

Reiyla smiled, "Good. Confidence will help you win some sponsors. Though, you two shouldn't have too hard a time with that. Right, Kristor?"

Kristor, one of our two mentors, gave a quick jerky nod. He was fairly young, having been chosen for his games when he was twelve. I was only six at the time, but I still felt sorry for him. He'd stood over the body of his best friend, Vinnyette, after killing her. It had been Tracker Jacker venom that made her seem like a monster to him, and he was just a scared twelve year old…He hadn't been the same ever since.

Our other mentor was named Kayt. She had short blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. Most people would have thought she was pretty, if it wasn't for the long scar that ran down the left side of her face. Oddly enough, she and Kristor could have been twins, had it not been that he was a boy and at least a foot taller than her. Kayt's specialty had been knives, seeming weak and foolish…It was a Johanna Mason type of strategy, but Kayt was more of a shy type. I'd never heard her speak, even though she had been a Victor my whole life…She too was one of the younger Victors liked Kristor, which made me wonder if we were their first two tributes- their practice years. I honestly hoped not, since that would make my chances dwindle…

"You two should team up…Alliance's work better," Reiyla recommended.

I started to say, "I'd be willing t-"

"No. I don't _need_ her help!" Quip yelled, cutting me off.

Kayt seemed to giggle a bit, causing Kristor to jerk and shake. Quip just glared forward, making Reiyla sigh. This all set off warning bells in my head. My District Partner was already planning to kill me. My Mentor's were most likely insane. My escort was trying to help, but wasn't really doing much.

And I, I had started to cry.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER THREE**

_The lake glistened, the sun letting her see the steam evaporate off of it. Sometimes, she'd sit there quietly, wondering why no one would ever come…Then she would remember why. Most of them were scared of her, terrified even. They believe she had gone insane, she did too. Death was her fault and hers alone. Gazing into the lake, she shuddered at the reflection that greeted her, and retreated back into the forest. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of a small beast..._

We spent most of the car ride in silence, something that made me a bit uncomfortable. In my opinion, we should have been discussing strategies and advantages we would have in the arena. Instead, I was spending my time staring out the car window, playing a mini game show with myself in which I had to name each type of tree I saw in under twenty seconds. Quickly, it grew a bit boring since most of the trees were the same kind. Normally, I would have started tapping my feet, since I loved to have a sense of rhythm, but I was a bit scared about setting our Mentors into a full blown panic attack.

Luckily, Reiyla seemed to have been thinking the same way I was, "Look, you two are going to need to choose the way you want them to see you. Quip, I'd recommend the tough guy act, if it wasn't for your general size and your reaction at the reaping… Maybe try acting scared?"

Quip huffed a bit, then barked, "What did you think I was doing? I've had this planned since I was four years old! Not that you can exactly count, can you?"

Yeah, there was no way we'd be allies like I had hoped. But on the bright side, his behavior would mean someone else would probably do the job before I started to feel a bit guilty. Though, I probably shouldn't be worrying too much about him…This was the Hunger Games, and it was always one victor. Period. It's been that way for over seventy-two years, and I highly doubt them making a rule change anytime soon.

Reiyla was right though, I'd need to find an angle to sell myself at. I could either go for the weak, innocent look and risk losing sponsors, but have a higher chance of not being bothered with until the final four. Then, I could go for the confident, skilled look and gain more sponsors, yet be hunted down from the start for the duration of the games…. Wasn't there some way to have sponsors, yet not be bothered with?

"Quip, knock it o-off!" Kristor said, his left eye twitching a bit, "Reiyla is t-trying to h-help!"

Thankfully, Quip gulped and nodded, eyeing Kristor warily. He must have remembered when he stabbed a Career tribute in the back, looking similar to the way he did now. In fact, I would have felt a bit nervous myself; if it wasn't for the fact that Quip was the one he was mad at.

"Caitlyn…," Reiyla said, grabbing my attention, "We don't want you to be known as the, 'District Three Crybabies' so…What's your strong suit?"

"Equations and applying Scientific Theories," I answered without hesitation.

It sort of ran in my family, being skilled at Math and Science. Most of the programming on the harder pieces was done by my Dad and my Grandpa before he died. By the time I was four years old, I remembered a basic Python Programming code better than the letters of the alphabet.

Reiyla nodded, "Hmm…I'd recommend you give the impression of being intelligent, yet a friendly likable girl… It should help you win sponsors, and hopefully win over the crowds… Do you think you can do that?"

"Sure," I said, feeling grateful towards my escort.

Perhaps she really could help me here. At least more than anyone else could at this point…But now, I had a clear plan. I can easily give the impression of being a nerd, a geek, a teacher's pet, whatever you want to call it. As for winning over the crowds, that might be a bit tricky. Most of the time, Capitol people cheer for whoever has the highest training score or has the best costume at the opening ceremonies. Though, if I just smile and wave, I guess they'd start to like me. I'd have to think more about what the Capitol likes later.

Once we arrived at the train station, Quip barreled out of the car, right after taking some water from Kayt to make it look like he was crying. Of course, the reporters ate it all up, completely believing his act as he boarded the tribute train. Kayt and Kristor went out, holding hands to steady each other. It was probably a good thing, since neither of them was exactly mentally stable.

"Show time, Caitlyn," Reiyla said, slipping out of the car with her exuberant smile.

Taking a steadying breath, I tried to copy Reiyla's facial expression, and hopped out of the vehicle. Immediately, I was bombarded with flashes of light from each and every direction. Even though I felt more like taking a steadying step backwards, I made myself press onward, waving at the cameras. Naturally, they too continued their swarm, so I must have been doing a good job.

Stepping onto the train, I turned around and stared straight into the lens of a video camera. Instead of seeing a tiny reflection of me, or the glint of sunlight, it felt like I was looking through a telescope. Dad always kept a couple of odd knickknacks around the house, even though the money should have really gone towards food and blankets. Still, it made me feel like I was looking right at Dad, and if I knew him as well as I thought I did, he was probably watching me right now. With that in mind, I separated my fingers so my thumb to my middle were pressed together, followed by a gap, and then my fourth finger and pinky together. It was a sort of code passed down through the generations in my family, one that I didn't quite know where it came from.

Feeling somewhat more at ease after letting Dad know I was all right, I stepped onto the tribute train, letting myself be whisked away to the Capitol.

"Took you long enough," Quip snorted, his way of a greeting, "Kayt and Reiyla are waiting for you. Apparently, Kristor's solo training me…Figures. He wants to pick a winner."

Biting back a remark, I nodded at Quip and walked towards the table Kayt and Reiyla were sitting at. If I didn't have better I control, I would have yelled like mad at Quip, might have knocked him around a bit too. But here, I didn't need to have someone else especially interested to kill me. The Career Pack was enough to deal with.

"So I see the idiot left," Kayt said with a chuckle, sipping something that looked suspiciously like pink goop.

Reiyla huffed a bit, "He won't make it to thirteenth with _that _kind of behavior."

It felt a bit awkward, seeing my mentor and escort bagging on my District Partner, but then again, this was Quip they were talking about. Instead, I just shrugged a bit and sat down, eyes widening as they piled plate after plate of food in front of me. There was steak, ribs, pasta, blue cheese, egg rolls, and some odd cold mush they called Ice Cream. Most of this food, I'd never even seen, only knowing the names from the bedtime stories Dad would tell me, the same ones that his father had told him and so on.

"Eat up," Reiyla grinned, "They're all here to ensure one thing- that you have the time of your life."

At this, Kayt took a spoon, filled it with pees, and promptly flicked them at each of the servants. None of them winced, though I noticed one of the younger ones inched at bit backwards, trying to get out of range. It didn't really work, since she just threw the spoon at him instead, hitting him squarely on the forehead. The young man's eyes widened, scurrying over to where Kristor and Quip sat idly.

"That's how it's done," Kayt declared with a wicked grin, "And since you're wondering, they always do, I _don't _talk in public…They're always watching."

Yeah, Kayt was definitely crazy. But maybe, maybe she wasn't crazy for no reason. I mean, the Capitol were observing us, and they weren't the best…Okay, they weren't good at all. They were monsters. Maybe that's why Kayt never mentored before…

Pushing my thoughts aside, I dug into the food placed before me, barely remembering to use my utensils. I had never tasted anything like it before, since most of the food in District Three is pretty bland. Plus, you never really did feel full, even if your family was pretty high up in the general status. Naturally, I wolfed down roll after roll, sausage after sausage, and then washed it down with the same pink good Kayt had been drinking. A smoothie, I recalled. They said it was a blend of fruits, a mixture, created by a blender. It seemed simple enough to me, so I didn't question too much on how it was exactly made.

"Now, we'll be arriving in the Capitol tomorrow morning, since it's a rule that all the tributes arrive within the same hour. You'll then be handed over to your stylists, while I wasn't a tribute myself, I know it can be…queer. Just don't make a fuss, and you should be fine," Reiyla paused; mentally going back over the schedule she rattled off, "Afterwards is the Opening Ceremony, which I'm positive will go over splendidly. We'll take you to your Training Building, and we'll be on floor three. I'll tell you the rest tomorrow morning."

I barely even registered that she had began to speak, with my attention more focused on finally filing my empty stomach for the first time in my life. If I had trained for the Games since I was younger, this might have been the part I was really looking forward to, since I'd have very good odds at survival. Still…I couldn't help but enjoy myself a little bit before what could be my impending doom.

Kayt looked up at us two, a contemplative expression shown on her face, "Go sleep. The idiot will try to stay up the whole train ride, but you'll be better off with more strength."

"What about finding out who the rest of the tributes are?" I blurted.

The former tribute merely chuckled, "Sleep. We'll tell you who they all are later. And if you have trouble sleeping in the afternoon, the blinds are rather easy to use."

Resigning to do as my mentor asked, I stood up, a bit taken aback as my place was immediately swept clean, as if I had never even been there. I then felt something damp running down the side of my face, and only when I had walked to my cabin, did I realize that I was crying again. Hopefully, I'd be able to get my emotions under control by the Capitol. Being a crying coward was Quip's job to do, not mine. I'd have to perform, or suffer the consequences.

My cabin on the train was much like I had expected, meaning that it was extravagant and not sparse in the very least. Everywhere I turned there was some gizmo that I was just itching to get my fingers on. In each nook and cranny stood some type of furniture, the wood such a fine grain that I found it a bit hard to believe that it was made essentially out of the same stuff from back home.

Now, I know I'm going to sound shallow here, but the first thing I did was throw open the drawers and stare at all the clothes. They had trousers, jeans, tank tops, dresses, trench coats, socks, gloves, hats, scarves, blouses, sweaters, slippers…They had literally everything I could have wanted. Too bad I wouldn't be wearing any of them. There was no way _anyone _would get me to take off my mother's dress. They'd have to do it over my dead body…Which, hopefully, won't happen. I needed to go home, not just for me, but for Dad.

Walking over to the window, I opened up the blinds, yet closed my eyes. In my mind, I could perfectly picture our quaint little house in the middle of nowhere. Dad and I usually liked out space, so we lived as for away from everyone else as we could. Though, we were still inside the confines of District Three. The paint of our house was blue, even thought it was peeling from several generations of Smith's living in it. If I won the games, there wouldn't be a single thought about going to live in Victor's Village. I'd want to be home, and that, that wasn't home.

"Love you, Dad," I whispered, "I'm coming home."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_It was nearly noon when she awoke, covered in stings from the previous day. She knew what would happen to her soon. But a voice called out of the sky a message of hope, a message of caring, a message of giving, and in between the lines, a promise of bloodshed. If she went to the feast, she would die. If she did not go to the feast, she would die. Drawing her quiver and bow, she wearily stood up from her resting place, not returning for many hours, and when she did return, all she could see was red._

I had no idea what time it was when I heard a rappity-tap-tap at my cabin door. Subconsciously, I mumbled something about school not starting for half an hour, but after looking around a bit, the events of yesterday began to sink in again. I wasn't at home in my little blue house. I wasn't going to see Maria and Luke at school and try to find someone to help the poor souls going into the Hunger Games. I wasn't going to try to do my homework when Dad was telling one of his crazy stories. I wasn't even in District Three. I was on a train, headed for the Capitol at over two hundred miles per hour.

Though, when I glanced at the glass of water placed on the table, I saw that we weren't even moving at all. It must have been what Reiyla said about all the trains arriving at the same time. Figures, we were probably waiting for the District Twelve Tributes or the District Seven Tributes to show up. Not that I minded though, it gave me a little more time to compose myself before figuring out how I would be spending the time leading up to the Games. Hopefully, Kayt and Reiyla had that all worked out for me, but I shouldn't count on them completely. Ironically, that was what the mentors, stylists, and escorts were there for- to count on completely.

Walking over to the door, pulling on a brown trench coat over my dress, I yanked at the door knob, expecting the bright blue spikes of Reiyla's hair to great me. Instead, the boy that Kayt had thrown the spoon at stood there. He had blue eyes and was very much towheaded, carrying himself with a manor of confidence. Funnily enough, it felt like his eyes were shinning out at me, for some reason I couldn't quite understand.

He pressed a slip of paper into my hand, written in a meticulous script. It seemed like he'd done it himself, as I'd seen Reiyla's jagged handwriting and Kayt's messy letters on occasion. Though, I still wanted to know why he didn't just tell me what it said. I didn't dwell too much on it though, unfolding the otherwise crisp white paper.

_Good Morning, Caitlyn Smith._

_ Miss Kwerie has instructed me to fetch you for breakfast. At that point, you shall be presented with the footage of the other reapings and their names. You have been sleeping for almost 24 hours. If you have any questions, I am not able to answer them beyond a nod or a shake of the head._

_ Algernon._

Algernon. His name was Algernon. And besides the instructions in that piece of paper, I learned something else about him. He must have been an Avox; otherwise, he would have been able to talk to me. It explained the careful handwriting and the silence. Yet one thing kept on bugging me; what did he do? He seemed nice to me, not nearly like what you'd expect from an Avox, since they're traitors to the Capitol. When I usually pictured an Avox, they always seemed to be scraggly, filthy, and battle scarred. Yet Algernon, he just looked like a normal person…

Luckily, it didn't take me all too long to retrace my steps back to the table Kayt, Reiyla, and I had sat at. Only today, Kayt wasn't there. Instead, Kristor was, singing a song softly to himself. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, fearing that I might cause him to go into a seizure or something. Queerly, his blue eyes locked onto my brown ones, an odd type of intensity coming from their depths.

"So you're awake…," He mused, "Come, eat. The Whooper Cadoopers always make us enough! Right, Tic Tac?"

Since he was still looking at me, I assumed I was "Tic Tac," though I did crane my head around to see if anyone else was here. Nope. Not a single other soul was in this part. Reiyla and Kayt must have had their hands full with Quip or something, not that I'd be too surprised. Obeying Kristor's order, I sat down at my place at the table, still a little shocked at the tsunami of food that was immediately placed in front of me.

Part of me wondered if the real reason the District's are starving, it because the Capitol has to eat enough to kill them for each meal. It made a tad bit of sense, but it just made me feel a little sadder that this was the world I lived in. I didn't live in the stories Dad told me each day and each night. I lived in this nightmare of a place, a place where the sweetest things are the darkest poison.

Sipping some orange juice, I looked expectantly at Kristor. He merely shrugged, twitched a bit, causing his milk to spill all over the table. So, it seemed like I'd be working with an actual enigma today. No Reiyla coming in to help me figure out what to do. But, a small voice in the back of my mind thought, at least I don't have the District Twelve mentor. In every single reaping for that District that I'd have to watch, he'd always stumble onto the stage, severely drunk and delusional. At least my mentors didn't drink any alcohol…Or at least, not to my knowledge.

After eating what the Capitol people called Eggs Sunny Side Up, Kristor spent a good five minutes clearing his throat. Well, it wasn't really clearing his throat. It was more a high pitched whirring noise coming from the back of his throat. Vocal cords, I recalled, caused this to happen from fast vibrations.

"Well, now that you're rested, let's get to the fun part!" Kristor proclaimed with a quirky grin, "Let's see who's who! Now, from District Six we have Jespin Marco and Carla Brighten. From Seven, we have Jack Harkens and Aspen Frolls. And from Nine! No! Eight! District E-Eight we have Calvin Tennant and Emily Summers…Nine is Tex Gromlin and Basil Kobayashi. Ten is Adam Fields and Arissa Warner. Eleven is Thyme Foreman and Miss Poppy Isles! And lastly, we have Jay Jonroe and Kitty Riddle from Twelve!"

Eyes widening, I felt my heart begin to sink a bit. Maybe it would have been better if I didn't know their names. If I didn't know their names, then it would be easier to try and…to try and win. It'd be easier to make it out alive…Yet….It would be easier to become like _them_. The people I'd never want to be. The people that took my sister from me.

"Now, I'm s-sure you're just as an-anxious as I am to get th-there! Sheehan w-will be waiting for you!" Kristor muttered, suddenly quite pale, managing a quick jerky nod before running from his seat like it was a branding torch.

The rest of my ride was spent in silence, alone, since Kristor had not yet returned. It was probably for the best that he left, since it seemed quite obvious to me that he was suffering some sort of mental relapse. It's not surprising though, since it's the first time he's been back on a Tribute Train in years. If I won the games, I don't know how I'd get the guts to mentor if my mental state was like his.

Looking at the window, I tried to get myself to see the glory and the wonder of the Capitol. To be able to understand why so many people loved this place, and why we should love it to, and why we shouldn't rebel. Problem is, I just couldn't. I couldn't lie to myself. The Capitol was all substance, all glitz and glamour, all makeup and wacky hairdo's. It seemed unreal, like the drawings of Utopia we used to make when we were kids. They were all fakes, all let-downs, and quite frankly, this place seemed like a rip off to me. Sure, it had beauty. But that was it, it just all stopped and wouldn't get back up and running.

_"Run," _Dad's voice whispered in my mind.

In my mind, I pictured Dad sitting next to me. Only, he was dressed the way I'd always picture him dressing. He was wearing a tweed suit, suspenders, and an odd little thing around his neck that I couldn't quite remember the name for. It was red though, one of the brightest reds I'd ever seen in my entire life, even if it was just imagined. I told him that once; he chuckled and gave me a knowing grin. Sometimes, I wonder if Dad actually knew more than he was letting on…The idea of it was silly though.

"Ready, Blondie?" Quip's irritating voice rang out as he sauntered over, "Rayla says we'll be there in under a minute."

"Her name is Reiyla," I reminded him with a bit of a huff.

"Whatever," Quip shrugged, "Those Capitol people are all the same."

As much as I wanted to disagree with him, I couldn't. He did, for once, have a bit of a point. Reiyla's seen years and years of Tribute's come and go; she didn't quite understand how awful this whole thing was to us. To Reiyla, it was just everyday life for someone else, not her, she didn't have to deal with the dread we felt each year.

Rolling my eyes at him, I walked a bit closer to the exit, where I noticed that Kayt, Reiyla, and a slightly better looking Kristor had assembled. Kayt had a playful smile on her face, causing me to chuckle as I noticed the little trap she had set for Quip. I'd almost say he'd deserve this, but given that we're being thrown in an arena to fight to the death, he really didn't deserve anything nasty to happen to him.

Reiyla scoffed, walking over to Quip and snatching up the pieces of Kayt's scheme, "This isn't helping!"

"Sure it's not," Kayt said sarcastically, pushing the doors of the train open roughly.

"W-What she said," Kristor added, laughing as he hopped out behind her.

Quickly, Quip grabbed some fizzy water, dabbing it under his eyes after rubbing furiously. To his credit, it actually did make it seem like he was crying. Then, he took a piping hot cup of what they called Coffee, and drank it. After nearly having a fit, his voice did indeed sound hoarse and scratchy. He was far cleverer than I had originally thought.

Following them out with Quip hot on my heels, I found it rather hard not to squint and cover my ears at the mob of excited people. They were every hue imaginable- pink, yellow, green, red, blue, purple, maroon, orange. Each one of them looked like a walking freak show to me, their hair sticking out at odd angles and their peculiar taste in clothing. Hopefully, the Sheehan guy won't make me look like one of them. They barely look human to me anyhow.

Peeking up at the sky, I was a bit surprised to find that here, in the Capitol, it was blue.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong. This chapter's a bit shorter, but it's more of a transition to the next part.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER FIVE**

_It was getting late, the artificial sky light ablaze with faces of the dead. Yet she was not moving, she was lying, perfectly still, as they crawled all over her. If she moved but one muscle, it would surely invoke their rage. All she could do was hope, and pray. But at the sound of running feet and panting breaths, they awoke, leaving her scrambling as fast as she could…_

As soon as I was hurried inside of the room, my prep team demanded that I strip down. Of course, I was too busy staring at the three of them, hardly believing that they could be human. The shortest one of them was Ezra, a boy around his twenties with an enormous honey colored afro. His eyes looked like little beetles, lost in the monstrosity framing his face. The second one was named Quorra, a severely pale girl with glossy ice pink hair. Her voice was soft and sweet, yet her eyes always seemed tired to me. Finally, there was Jai Li, a tough looking brown haired girl with fierce amber eyes.

"Come on, darling, take off your clothes," Quorra instructed again in her sing-song voice, recognizing that I was barely paying attention to them.

I hesitated a bit on the strap of my mother's dress, but a quick glance at Jai Li was enough to send me reeling backwards. She had such an utter look of hatred and displeasure on her face, something that I'd never heard of happening in stylists. Most of the time, they were the happy, bubbly, and not very intellectual residents of the Capitol. But the way Jai Li was looking at me sent chills down my back and goose bumps up my arms. If looks could kill, I would most certainly be dead.

"Good. Now we can at least look at the canvas," Jai Li snorted, eyeing my now naked self.

Oddly enough, I didn't feel really uncomfortable. It felt as if people had seen me naked plenty of times before, but I was positive that wasn't the case. The only explanation I could think of, which made me chuckle, was that I was some sort of shape-shifter in a past life. Which would have been extremely cool, unless I got stuck as something like a bucket for my whole life.

"Ooo!" Quorra squealed, "Ezzy, tell Sheehan about her curves! Very curvy! Not too much up front though…"

Okay, scratch that. At Quorra's words, I found myself turning a very bright crimson. It was one thing to have to stand before them like this, but to have them talk about me that way just was too much. Their words and scanning eyes made me feel like a piece of meat that they were preparing, trying to figure out just how to season it and such. Probably shouldn't have been thinking that way, since it made my stomach churn. As always, I had to remind myself that the proper term for digesting food was chyme…It was an obsession that Dad said seemed to be genetic, though I don't know what the alleles for that gene would have to be…

"All right," Ezra said, his voice quiet, though the Capitol accent still noticeable, "I'll be back in a few."

Once the young man sporting the afro had left, Jai Li and Quorra promptly forced me into a sub, soaking down every inch of me. Once they were satisfied that I was dripping wet, they grabbed a bar of soap, a sweet smelling cherry kind, and lathered me up. I felt like I came from the Planet Bubble World, where people walked around covered in foamy suds. Soon, my skin had no trace of the grub and grime that came from doing the wiring in District Three.

See, Dad was a very skilled engineer and scientist type of guy, but some of the more delicate things required nimble hands to fix them. So more often than not, I'd finish my homework only to have to fix the wiring on a device Dad just couldn't do. I didn't really mind it though, in fact, it was usually the highlight of my day.

Jumping a bit, I winced as I felt a searing pain on my legs. Jai Li smirked, a cocky look on her face, before pressing down the wax again, removing a little more leg hair. This process felt like it took hours, and I felt like it was an endless cycle of press, whimper, pull, whimper, and repeat.

"You're done, darling!" Quorra squealed, "Sheenie is waiting for in the other room!"

Gratefully, I hopped out of the tub, slinging a purple robe on and walking to the other room. I felt like the ugly duckling from that little kid's story. Though, I suppose I was supposed to be even more beautiful, since I've been plucked and soaked. Not to mention that they insisted on filing my nails down perfectly, even grabbing a ruler to make sure they were all the same. Seemed rather shallow to me.

"Ah, so you're Caitlyn!" A man with an angular face, spiky brown hair, glasses, and sparkly suit said proudly.

Smiling meekly, I nodded, "And you must be Sheehan, right?"

"Aye, that would be me!" Sheehan proclaimed, grinning, "Mind letting me see what I have to work with? 'Ra wasn't rather specific."

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks once again, trying to slip off the robe like I wasn't feeling awkward at all. Then again, it probably didn't matter in his mind, since he's already written me off. I couldn't wait to prove him wrong.

"Hmm…," Sheehan started after a quick look, "I think I've got just the thing for you, Cait."

"Oh?" I asked, starting to feel a bit more at ease with him.

"Yep," he grinned, "What's more technological than a creature of Time?"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER SIX**

_Slumbering, the vengeful angel dreamt of a land from long ago. The land forgotten by all, the barrier of time lying in her path. There was only one way for her to leave, and she was closer to attaining it. As if sensing her thoughts, the warriors of yellow descended upon her, stirring her quietly awake to meet her doom…_

My prep team, this time with Ezra, groomed me other much the same as they had done before. Except this time they were far more precise, triple checking everything and making arguments about how the eye shadow would look with the lighting. It was actually mildly intriguing to learn the exact kind of light bulbs they used for the Opening Ceremonies, but I felt it was a little overboard to worry how my look would compare to the music playing as the District Three chariot was revealed. I didn't tell them that, though, since I never really learned anything about fashion. There just was never really a need or an interest to.

Personally, when Sheehan had described out costumes to Quip and I, with Quip's stylist Julie, I felt it was either genius or terrible. Sure, people used to write tons of books on Time Travel and all, but I doubted that District Three would be able to do anything like that anytime soon. At least, it wouldn't happen until the Capitol stopped starving a majority of our people.

Glancing down, I saw that my nails were once again perfect ovals, despite chewing nervously on them last night. Not only that, but they had been painted a shimmery golden color, giving the illusion of a mist. My eyes had been outlined with kohl, just like they had done in ancient times, yet the same color had been used for my eye shadow. I thought it wasn't that good, since I have blonde hair, but I suppose the wacky Capitol people might go for it.

"And….done!" Quorra squealed, placing the last pin in the intricate and complicated braid.

Ezra grinned and spun me around, casting my gaze into a pearly white framed mirror.

Sheehan did in fact know what he was doing. My black jumpsuit was covered in glitter, giving the illusion of it shifting in and out with each of my movements. The brown eyes staring back at me looked fierce and superior, as if I had already won the Games. It seemed like a look the occasional Career Tribute from Three might have done, but nothing something I would. Sheehan had even done some complex wiring, causing certain parts of the suit to glow faintly. Hopefully, it would catch the attention of the crowd and help me win over some sponsors. The only thing I didn't like was that I didn't look like me; I looked completely like someone else.

"Hmph," Jai Li snorted, though I swear I saw a flicker of smugness cross her face.

Soon enough, Sheehan came in, proclaimed I looked magnificent, and lead me out towards the Chariots. It was the first time I had actually seen all the other tributes, but I didn't real notice most of them. Two girls, one with dark hair and the other with fair, stood snickering off by themselves as two boys arm wrestled. By the way they carried themselves, I was almost positive I was looking at some of the Careers. Or more accurately, I was previewing the people who would quite likely kill me.

Quip was already standing in our chariot, which was constructed out of steel and brass, giving it a steam punk feel. The horses where spotted white, an odd and peculiar rarity, which I suppose was supposed to support that we were the advanced technology district. However, it just seemed flashy to me; just something to catch the attention of the audience. Julie, a tall girl with short white hair, was fussing over him, the annoyance in his eyes obvious. It made me feel a little bit more grateful to have Sheehan, wherever or not his sanity was almost as questionable as my mentors.

Speaking of them, they too were making sure every panel on Quip's costume was fully functional. Occasionally, their hands would brush each other and they would jump to the side, ready to fight for their lives.

"Now, don't move a muscle or I'll spank ya good!" Julie declared, then spotting me and ushering me next to Quip on the chariot.

It was hard not flinch as she stalked around me, eyeing me like a cat, her playful smile not quite helping. Kayt and Kristor on the other hand seemed quite pleased, part of me pondering wherever or not they had only acted that way for a small form of revenge towards Quip.

"So, what do you think, Lassie?" Sheehan asked, playfully kissing Julie's cheek, "I think they're brilliant!"

Julie rolled her eyes, letting out a small giggle, "You're such a flirt, Han!"

"Don't I know it!" Sheehan responded.

Quip chuckled at them, and then glanced at me as District One started to leave. I felt a tad bit sorry for them, as their stylists decided to just spray paint them silver, otherwise having no clothes on. But after recalling what they'd do to a majority of the tributes, the slight sorrow was long since gone. District Two quickly followed their black horses and chainmail representing power and might. The only thing that I felt truly symbolized District Two were the hammers each of them held, seemingly at ease in their grips.

"You look okay. Good enough to get us some sponsors at least," he said with a shrug.

"Us?" I questioned, "Since when were we allies?"

Quip smirked, laughing a bit, "You, me, District One, District Two, and District Four. I'll arrange the whole thing," he stated slyly.

He wants us to join the Careers, I realized. It's certainly possible, yet I had planned to go off on my own. I had figured it would be harder to track someone by themselves, and quite easier for me to keep my supplies on myself at all times. Then again, the tributes in the Career pack almost always won. It wouldn't exactly hurt my chances of survival, in fact, it might even benefit them. Still, I wasn't quite sure as what to do. Thinking logically, I came to the conclusion that I could split up from them later. They might even think I was going tribute hunting and not bother to come looking.

"Sure," I replied, a more elaborate plan forming in my head, "We can join the Careers."

Our chariot moved forward, placing us into visibility of all of Panem. There must have been hundreds of thousands of people here; cheering the names of the tributes they liked the best. Luckily, I heard some cries of Quip and Caitlyn ringing out, mingled in with the names of the tributes from One and Two. Everywhere I turned, a TV screen showed my exact image. I looked even better than I did at Remake Center, looking like the technologically advanced being Sheehan had envisioned. Quorra, Jai Li, and Ezra must have been right to discuss the lighting, since it only seemed to add to the creative depth of the costume.

"Wave. Smile. Do something," Quip whispered, playing the crowd.

Nodding slightly, I turned, plastered a broad grin on my face and waved at the cheering people. Except, I didn't quite see them sitting in those seats; I saw my father. I was waving towards him, in my head picturing him carefully watching the TV, absentmindedly wiring the latest device for work. I barely even noticed the crowd cheer louder, evidence of my success. Yet I did notice the hope swelling up in my stomach, letting my grin turn from fake to honest, as I was sure sponsors would like me even more. I'd be okay.

Once all the chariots halted in front of President Snow's mansion, the madman himself walked out and "graced" the people of Panem with a speech. As usual, I hardly heeded it any mind, since it was basically the same thing each year. Instead, I glanced around at the other tributes, wondering if any of them had the potential to steal sponsors away from me. None of them did, especially District Twelve's attempt at bring sexy to a miners outfit, which made me cringe a bit. I felt sorry for them, Kitty and Jay I remembered after a bit.

The chariots parade around on last time, a slight pain in the front of my head signaling the start of a headache. With any luck, it will be gone by tomorrow. I can't train rather well if I have to keep asking for a wet towel or medicine every now and then. As our chariot pulls back into the stable, Quip doesn't even bother to wait for our little gang of helpers, making a bee line for the Careers. The six of them are talking, the boys making whooping noises while the girls make high fives. Quip approaches them, and then says something that I can't quite make out.

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" Sheehan praises, appearing in front of me suddenly, blocking my view of Quip and the Careers.

Julie, tossing aside a steamy drink, nodded ecstatically, "Better than I had hoped!"

Smiling, I hopped off the chariot, "Thanks."

"Now, we've got a big big day tomorrow! Best that you rest, dear," Reiyla informed me, carrying a clipboard with what I hoped was the names of potential sponsors.

"Ah, yes! Rest is good! I love rest!" Sheehan announced, then adding, "And good old Alois is sponsoring you! Now _that's _an accomplishment!"

Quip walked back over, the emotions displayed on his face carefully made difficult to read. For the rest of the trip to the Training Center, Reiyla chatted up with the stylists. I didn't bother asking where Kayt and Kristor had gone, since I knew that Mentors were responsible for closing deals with sponsors. He seemed to have heard what Sheehan said though, perking up considerably with a triumphant grin on his face.

Stopping at the elevators, Reiyla explained that each floor number corresponded with your District. Since we were in District Three, we would just press floor three and be taken to our rooms. Part of me wondered if people had ever gone to the wrong floors before and gotten lost. It seemed like an odd and silly idea, but after careful consideration, I bet some poor, scared person had done so.

They all bid us goodnight, insisting that it was time for grownups to talk and tributes to go and rest. Without saying anything to one another, Quip and I met up in his room. It was entirely made out of a glass like material, yet it couldn't have been real glass as you couldn't see in from the outside. Also, a control allowed you to change the scenery, so you could look out at anything you wanted. Quip set his on a blue sky, dotted with fluffy clouds.

"What did they say?" I asked.

Quip shrugged, "Oh, the usual stuff Careers say."

"Like what?" I pressured, feeling a bit annoyed as he drew this out.

"Hmm…," Quip started, smirking, "They might have said something about them might wanting someone who might be able to…"

Sighing, I felt exasperated, "Just spit it out already!"

"They said we're in," he answered with a grin, "District Three has joined the mighty Careers!"

District Three has joined the mighty Careers, my mind echoed. I had joined my sister's killers. What did that make me? A murderer? Or someone scared, someone who wants to survive? To be honest, I am scared. I'm scared that I'll die in this arena, and not only physically, but _me_. I'm scared that I won't die Caitlyn Smith, the geeky girl from District Three. I'm scared that I'll die as the District Three Tribute, the one that was so close to winning.

"Isn't this great?" Quip exclaimed, making me wonder if he suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder, "We're practically guaranteed to win!"

"Yeah…," I said softly, still contemplating my sudden dilemma, "It almost does."

Almost.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

_Sipping water from a tiny creek, the pair quietly talked. They were cold, both lost, and both in need. Together, they softly sang, feeling free and safe for once. The quiet huntress, mean and shallow, swept in with her talons of night. One of them fell, the other ended this plight. A weeping one fled from the scene, the blasts of cannons her only greeting…_

"Wake up!" Reiyla screeched, crabby in the morning, "You need to be showered and dressed in thirty minutes! Or we'll eat without you!"

Groaning, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling of my room. It was the night sky, the constellations easy for me to pick out. I usually had nightmares of my sister's games, and it sometimes helped to look up at the Big Dipper or Orion or Hercules. Another odd trait I had, no doubt, picked up from my father.

The covers of the bed fell to the ground, still feeling a bit too soft and fluffy. In fact, they made it feel like this whole thing was a long dream, one that was slowly shifting into the most terrible nightmare. On the opposite side of the room, a well polished door was clearly labeled 'SHOWER' in great looping letters. Seems like the Capitol people can't talk or print correctly, I thought to myself with a snicker. Reiyla, Sheehan, Quorra, Ezra, and Julie's faces popped into my mind, immediately making the seemingly harmless joke seem cruel and ungrateful.

When I step inside the shower, my discarded clothes lying behind me, I feel an insane grin form on my face as I stare at all the buttons. There must have been at least a hundred, all of them wired complexly in a complicated way I'd love to learn. Though, as I thought about it, some of the wiring would have been done back in District Three. It was an ironic thought, but as I dwelled on it, it turned to a quite unsettling one.

After careful observation, I found myself a master at the several buttons. It was quite easy, since all I had to do was brainstorm every customization you could get for a shower. Things like water pressure, temperature, smell, bubbles, ect. Then I counted up the total number of buttons, and divided them from categories. Turns out I was right, as the water dousing my head was steady, filling up the room with a scentless steam.

_ "I'll see you again, Little One."_

_ "Promise, Jenny?"_

_ "I…I promise."_

I let the tears flow out, wet and hot just as if they were part of the shower spray. Sometimes, I knew Maria felt guilty for Jenny's death, but I never did blame her. There really wasn't anyone I could blame; sure, I could blame the Careers. Sure, I could blame the Districts for rebelling. But the one person I could point at, the one person I could rightfully blamed, he would kill me for doing so. In a more gruesome and more terrifying way then how his followers were planning to kill me and twenty three other children each year. Yet, even they had to show a shred of humanity, so one of us would be spared. I hoped it was me. I hoped it wasn't me.

"So, I see you didn't drown yourself like I predicted," Quip snorted, nibbling on some toast as I walked in, dressed in the training uniform, "The theoretical probability was one out of two, by the way. And so far, the experimental probability is zero out of one. I suggest you don't change that."

Chuckling a bit, I sat down at the table in between Kayt and Kristor. Kayt was busy; reading a brightly colored book which I think was called a comic book. I wasn't quite sure, since most of the reading material we received was on Benjamin Franklin, Albert Einstein, Georgia Covetta, and Luca Simmons; people who advanced technology or added to science significantly.

"So," Reiyla said, delicately sipping some tea, "Quip informed us of the alliance you two have formed with the Careers…"

I glanced at my curly haired ally, "And?"

Reiyla huffed, "I had hoped you'd carry your wits about you-"

"I think it was a good idea, Kwerie," Kayt interrupted harshly, "They can ditch the Careers later, once they have been ensured protection."

"Back stabbing," Kristor chuckled, elbowing Kayt, "Sounds a bit familiar to me."

Kayt chuckled, picking up her half eaten banana and shoving it in Kristor's face. The mushy yellow stuff covered his eyes, his pale hands scrubbing them off of his face. They looked so happy, in such a peaceful state of mind. As if the screams, echoing down the hall so we all could hear, never existed. After they were over, it seemed like the Games did become a Nightmare. Aside from questionable sanity at times, which wasn't too uncommon, they were just people.

"So, what's the game plan for training?" Quip asked, finishing off his toast.

Kayt looked over at him, "Well, idiot, you're going to train. And by train, I mean actually train. Don't waste time on what you're good at…Spend time of things you're bad at. Oh and show off _only _if the Careers start back pedaling. Okay, idiot?"

"Fine, fine," Quip replied with a shrug.

"Ten minutes," Reiyla announced, clearly a bit mad at the alliance, choosing to go sulk in her room.

The rest of breakfast was fairly uneventful, except for Kristor having a seizure. He twitched, knocking over his chair and screaming bloody murder. Kayt just stared ahead into nothingness, as if neither of our Mentor's were really there. I couldn't bring myself to continue eating, having long since lost my appetite. Thankfully, Reiyla came back minutes later, sporting orange and green hair, looking like a porcupine. Seeing our Mentors conditions, she let out a little sigh and gestured for Quip and I to follow her into the elevator. As the cold metal door sealed us in, I spotted an Avox walk over to them, tears streaming down her face.

Reiyla pressed the correct button, her lips pursed as she observed the two of us like unruly toddlers. Her makeup was all odd shades of purple, mimicking the sailor look of her dress. I hadn't ever seen her appear to be angry, more like mildly miffed at times. She had been Kristor's escort, so maybe she did care more than average. Most escorts only cared if you won or if you lost, since they receive more pay if you do well, and quite more if you're the Victor. I didn't know if she was Kayt's escort, though I doubted that she was. She looked a bit younger than Kayt, around her mid-twenties, while I knew Kayt was at least thirty years old.

"…I believe you two listened when Kayt told you what to do," Reiyla said pointedly, though I noticed she was more looking at Quip.

"Yep," I nodded, finding the silence awkward as we were herded towards the area where we could actually train.

Reiyla smiled a bit, giving a quick wave to a drunken mentor, whom I recognized as the only living Victor in District Twelve, yet he didn't wave back. He was too busy muttering to his tributes, the girl who looked like she was hanging onto his every word. The boy, Jay, I reminded myself, was arguing with their escort as he forced down another muffin, crumbs cascading down his training uniform. With a sigh, Reiyla turned her purple striped boots around and headed back up the way she had come.

The head trainer, a stocky boy name Franhk, went through the basic procedures. There was a station for just about everything we needed to know for the games, each manned by an expert in that field. We would get three days before our private session with the Gamemakers, at which we would be judged. And finally, there would be no fighting allowed. Period.

After the other tributes had dispersed to the other stations, we were approached by a large dark haired boy. Following the boy, whose name my superb memory couldn't quite remember, where three girls and two boys.

"So…," he said, looking us over, "I'm Brine, and that's my partner, Amy," he jerked his head towards the tall girl from four.

She had tired eyes, yet the slight glint of maliciousness set off warning bells in my head. Amy really was a Career, not the kind of girl who just joined the pack to survive. That was the kind of girl I was right now. Yet, I knew that eventually, I'd have to leave them. Let them pick each other off, whilst I'm far, far away. Glancing at Quip, part of me hoped he'd die at the Cornucopia. He'd started to grow on me; I didn't want to face the idea of killing him myself.

"Name's Beau," the slightly tan boy from One said, "She's Dity."

"Ditie," a girl with black hair huffed, "Get it right, moron."

Once again, I noted that most of the Districts looked alike. Dark haired tributes from One, a bit of an oddity due to District One usually having light haired, fair skinned people. Whereas from District Two, they each had fair complexions and sadistic smiles, as if they were already deciding exactly how we'd die. A shiver ran down my back, since it was highly likely that it was exactly the case.

"And I'm Caine," a short boy announced with swagger, "And-"

"I'm Jade. Leave me alone and you'll stay pretty," interrupted the blonde girl, somehow shorter than Caine, commanded, walking off for solo training, "I'll see you losers later."

Brine nodded at Jade, before instructing each of us to look for others who might be Career material. For the most part, I tuned out what he said, distracted as I watched Jade throw knives with deadly precision. The scariest part was the she was blindfolded the entire time.

Brine, Quip, Caine, and Ditie walked over to some of the more deadly tools. Each one of them picked up a sword, a knife, a bow and arrow; if it could be used to kill, they grabbed it. Brine was graceful with each motion, hitting the target each and every time. Ditie had grabbed the bow, a bronze one, and repeatedly landed bulls eyes. Quip and Caine each picked up a sword, though Caine's had a slight curve at the end. I adverted my eyes, zeroing in on Amy who was talking to the large girl, Poppy, from Eleven.

_"Learn something new. Learn something hard. Learn something helpful. Learn something smart. Learn. Survive."_

At the knots station, a kind woman named Sylvia greeted me. Her hair was the color of cherry blossoms, her skin the color of the cherry trees. Yet her eyes, they were a soulful silver, giving her a quiet yet noticed presence. In a matter of moments, she had my skilled fingers tying knots that I'd never even seen before. The other tribute, Jespin, wasn't having nearly as much luck, fumbling and cussing under his breath.

"Here, love," Sylvia said to Jespin, "You keep going back, when you need to go forward."

For some reason, I got the impression she wasn't really talking to Jespin, or about knots either.

The next station I worked at had seemingly been abandoned, the trainer their looking extremely bored. He pointed me towards the target, explained that the red dots were major veins and arteries that would be fatal on impact. After satisfied I could aim properly, he handed a couple of throwing stars. In the back of my mind, I ran through a story about a ninjas. They used these weapons on assassin missions. No wonder the Gamemakers had decided to put them in along with the training equipment.

Each of them hit the red dots, gaining an appreciative nod from the trainer.

"Ready to try without them ole' dots, little lady?" the trainer, Solomon, asked.

"Yep," I replied, aiming once more at the new target he placed in front of me.

See, I have a pretty amazing memory. No, it's not a picture memory. No, I don't remember words and phrases. I remember _everything_. And if I don't remember something, then that's pretty queer. Just as I expected, each one of the throwing stars hit correctly, Solomon giving me a wide grin and a pat on the back. Placing down the weapons, I made a mental note to use them during my private session on the last day of training. If I could show off like I just did, there would be a higher chance that these would be easy to come by in the arena. Or at least, there would be at least a couple of them in there. The Gamemakers did want the best show they could have, after all.

Afterwards, I went over to the edible plants area. A haughty woman, Laurynie, gave me a quiz on almost all the plants known to mankind. I did well enough, but a nagging voice in the back of my head thought that I would have done better if Laurynie wasn't looking away from me the whole time. Though, she might have been watching the dark skinned, curly haired boy from eleven, expertly starting up a fire in only ten seconds. It was quite an impressive sight, even more so when Amy was having trouble with it right next to him.

"Lunch!" Franhk announced, gesturing towards the elaborately set tables.

As I walked over, I spotted Quip motioning for me to sit with him and the other Careers. Trying to hide my reluctance, I took the seat next to Amy and hoped I looked like I belonged here. I hoped that I wouldn't be killed by my supposed allies as soon as they got the chance. I hoped, and I prayed. For the most part, they ignored me as they wolfed down roast beef sandwiches and fresh picked strawberries.

Brine looked up from his steak platter, "Any good ones?"

Amy shook her head, "Nah. Eleven won't join unless her partner does. He outright refuses to."

"Well, guess that means one more person to kill on the first day then," Jade said with a shrug, idly peeling an orange.

Ditie's gaze was cool and calculating, "I want her."

All of us turned to look at Brine, who finally just rolled his eyes, "Then I get the pipsqueak."

"Which pipsqueak? There is three this year," Jade clarified.

"All of them." Brine responded, as if he was just talking about the weather.

For the entire meal, I held my tongue and stayed quiet. I barely ate either; there was no way my food would stay down. My allies were planning the deaths of innocent children. And more so, they didn't even seem to care. They didn't care at all, more concerned with how many sponsors they got and who would be the best to guard the camp. Had my sisters killers acted like this?

Probably.

There was no way I liked that answer, the knowledge that people grew up like this. That people were rewarded and praised for proving to be the smartest and fastest murderer out of twenty four people. Out of twenty four children, all but one who would never see their homes. They would never see their families, their friends, their favorite places to go. They were the living dead; mere puppets of the true monsters.

_"They're bred to kill. And they're born to die."_

Once lunch was over, I kept a steady distance between me and everyone else. I practiced camouflaging myself with my surroundings in absolute silence, something which suited the trainer, Gregoria, at that station. When I went over to archery, I fumbled and fussed with my arrow, making sure that I had the odd fletching in the exactly right position. Ditie, who came over when I hadn't noticed, looked at ease and graceful. She could have been practicing for hunting, had she not let out a glorious whoop when she hit that target dead center, where the heart would have been.

Reiyla came down to collect us right before dinner, literally pulling Quip by the ear away from the spears. It seemed quite comical, even more so since Reiyla had changed her hair to resemble that of a bumble bee. Her dress, however, remained the same, clashing severely with her hair.

"So, how did it go?" she asked, pressing the number Three on the elevator.

"All right," I replied, shrugging a bit, entertaining myself by looking for differences between this elevator and the one at the justice building.

Reiyla didn't seem to buy it, though she heeded me no more mind and glanced warily at Quip, "You've been uncharacteristically quiet, Quip."

He turned around, grinning at Reiyla. The harsh lighting made it features striking, yet it turned them into one of an animal. And by his next sentence, I knew exactly what kind of animal he was. He wasn't the prey at all; he was the hunter.

And I was the hunted.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

_Blood, blood, blood. The sickly red substance covered each and every surface. One of the shapes let out a croak, alerting a savoir nearby. The savoir dashed over, saving the shape's life. A gift from above provided aid, healing and nurturing the fallen soldier's plight…_

Twenty of us stood, waiting, outside the majestic bronze doors. Caine was inside there right now, showing off his skills to the Gamemakers. Everyone expected the Careers to have high scores, since they've been preparing for this their whole lives. Still, I wondered what Quip had said or done to allow us to join their groups. I didn't feel like Career material at all, in fact, I knew that I was too short. I wasn't muscular, and the greatest physical feat I had even managed was outrunning all the other kids. But that was only because I loved to run. I loved to feel free; to feel the wind blowing through my hair. I loved to feel like the world would stop for me, and only for me. That all me worries were meaningless, and the sun would rise each day and set each night.

Too soon, Caine strolls out of the room, smirking at us. Reminding myself that I'm his ally, I give him a curt nod before walking into the room. It's largely the same as before, except for most of the equipment has been pushed to the side. At a long, elegant table sits the Gamemakers, and behind them is more food then I'd see in a fortnight back home.

"Caitlyn Smith, District Three," I told them, identifying myself as Kristor had instructed.

Immediately, I dash over to the throwing stars. Yet instead of facing my target to aim, I stand right next to it, my knees slightly bent. My imaginary attacker beside me, I bolt into a run, throwing my weapons over my shoulder. Each one of them hits dead center, ensuring that, had my attacker been real, his cannon would have long since fired.

Glancing over at the table, I noticed a few of them looking a bit impressed. Next, I grabbed a rope and began tying knot after knot after knot. It was just like wiring devices back home; I could completely tune out, my fingers working on autopilot. When I was done, I had created a net that would trigger when a large enough force came over. It wouldn't work if it was a rabbit, but if it was as big as, or bigger, than a wild dog, they would be ensnared in seconds.

And finally, I ran. I ran around the room as fast as I could, weaving in and out of the targets and weapons. It felt good to run again, even if it was a gray ceiling over my head instead of the cloudless blue sky. I wondered what Jenny had done when she was here; what skills she had shown them to earn that 10. I wish I knew, and yet…I'm glad I didn't. I'm glad I didn't know why they thought my sister would be a skilled murderer.

My sister…She was kind, caring, funny, intelligent, athletic, helpful, and positive. The Games had changed her. The Jenny I saw on the television screen wasn't my sister. My sister was killed when she volunteered. That Jenny, the one with all that blood on her hands, wasn't her. I refused to accept it, and part of me felt that Dad didn't either. I lost my sister on that Reaping Day, yet a more persistent question continued to plague my mind. Was I already dead? Had I died on the Reaping Day not too long ago?

I didn't know the answer to that question. I didn't think I wanted to.

Upon exiting the training room, bowing to the Gamemakers before I left, I glanced quickly at Quip. He seemed so confident, so sure of himself. I pegged him as an enigma, one that I would never get to solve if I wanted to survive. The walk to the elevator I spent alone, silence my only company. It didn't help my pestering thoughts, that I had changed, that I wasn't me anymore. Dad had changed when Jenny died; he became hardened, refusing to talk to anyone. Except for me; he would talk to me. He would tell me stories; he would hold me through my nightmares of Jenny's Hunger Games. It was rather nice, a mutual gain, with the exception that he wouldn't let me out of his sight and begun to home school me for that year. It was only when our clothes were worn and threadbare, our stomachs growling, and spiders taking refuge in our house did he consent to return to work and for me to return to school.

The doors sealed me off just as I saw Quip's curly hair disappear behind those doors. I couldn't help but wonder what skill he'd be showing the Gamemakers, as I didn't pay much attention to him. Though, I didn't really catalog the skills anyone was good at, except for Thyme from District Eleven. His burning fire, bright and uninhibited, its image stuck in my head. Whenever I closed my eyes, I would see the strangest collage of images. Some of them were quite easy to understand, yet others were mind boggling. If I knew more about psychology, I probably would have been able to tell why they stayed with me, but I didn't.

Listening closely, I could barely hear the faint hum of the elevator. It was odd, as if it actually wasn't moving. Though logic told me it was, since I could feel the sensation of moving upwards and I would walk out on the floor for District Three. Still, it was a most peculiar phenomenon, which was no doubt the fruit of the labors from Districts One and Three. I would have loved the chance to take a closer look at it, so I could examine exactly how it was made, but I was deposited on my floor before I could even start to look.

"Ah, you're back," Reiyla stated, sitting on the couch, "Lunch is on the table. Sheehan and Julie are designing your outfits for the interviews right now. Bless 'em,"

I didn't pay much attention to Reiyla, just noting that she actually looked rather good with vivid ginger hair. Another quirk about me, I just love people with red hair. It's a brilliant splash of color on something that is typically the normal hues of blonde and brown. Sadly, we didn't have a lot of gingers in District Three. The only District that ever seemed to reap people with red hair was District Five, the power District. Logically, it could only be coincidental, as I didn't see any reasoning for why power would affect hair color. Unless it was radiation, yet that would give you hair loss.

Chicken soup had been already poured into a bowl for me, something that I didn't protest. I tore off pieces of bread, dipping them into the savory broth. It was almost worth it, getting to stay in the Capitol for one week. Yet nothing could be worth dying, except for saving the ones you loved, I added. My mother had died when I was young in an explosion. Someone had botched the wiring or let the parts corrode or something; it caused her entire workspace to be destroyed, taking her and another with it. Then, four years later, Maria was reaped for the Hunger Games and Jenny took her place. Jenny…Jenny was killed by a Career tribute; a knife thrower. I couldn't save either of them, but maybe, maybe I could save Dad by saving myself. I hoped I could. I hoped that he'd hold on, and that I'd manage to stay kicking long enough to get back home.

Battle cries, shrieks, and sobs distracted me, a stray noodle plopping back into the soup. Quickly looking at the source of the sound, an old Hunger Games tape greeted my eye. I hadn't recognized this one, but thankfully it was at the final battle. I hated watching the Hunger Games. Each time there was some person I connected to, someone who I felt like I understood a bit. And each time I'd feel hopeful that they would make it out alive; however, they never did.

A small black haired girl, her green eyes darting wildly, stood facing a sickly looking boy. Neither of them looked like they could have been in the Career pack, the snow crunching beneath their feet suggesting the others had died from the cold. The girl mumbled something I couldn't quite here, adverting her eyes to the sky, as if expecting to be announced the Victor already. Tension had been created in enormous amounts, freshly delivered weapons standing out against the white powder. The boy lunged at her, his speed greatly faster than I, or the girl, had expected. She crumbled, her hair contrasting with the snow as he beat her. Each time his fist impacted her angled face, I felt myself wince from anticipation. The boy simply looked at her in disgust, sneezing at her with temerity. I expected her to put up a fight, yet her eyes were focused elsewhere. Green was looking up at the blue sky, causing the girl to smile, right as her head fell limp and she died.

_"I now present Cedric Leviera from District Seven, Victor of the Third Annual Hunger Games!" _An unfamiliar voice announced, confirming that this was a tape of one of the very first Hunger Games.

Reiyla sat transfixed, staring at the screen. Wordlessly, I brought my soup over and curled up on the couch, watching with her. I'd never seen this tape before, since they didn't exactly run around handing out tapes of the seventy two previous Hunger Games. Mainly, I wanted to know who the girl was. And why, why was she smiling when Cedric was beating her to death. Why?

The screen now showed Cedric, nowhere near as malnourished as before, sitting in the Victor's chair. An odd girl with sparkly purple hair and vibrant blue eyes sat near him, talking to him before they cut to the video summarizing his Games. My best guess was the she was the fabled Topsy Luelles, the girl who used to do Tribute Interviews before she was deemed too old and replaced by the more familiar Caeser Flickerman.

Cedric again appeared on the screen, sprinting madly away from the Cornucopia, then queerly making a u-turn, grabbing a boy twice his size and throwing him to the ground. The boy's death was almost identical to that of the black haired girls, only this boy wasn't smiling. The image cut again, now showing Cedric trick the Career pack into running off a cliff, watching them fall a hundred feet down before landing in the snow. For some reason, they showed him and the black haired girl together, laughing. We learned the girls name was Snow, an amusing thing given the arena they had been thrown in. Shortly afterward, Cedric and Snow were shown laying a netted trap for the last few tributes, stabbing them viciously once they had been caught. It was then that, once more, the brutal murder of Snow was shown.

She had been murdered by her ally, whom had nothing to say when prompted by Topsy. I didn't have anything to say either, as I felt pangs of worry. I knew that someone would try to kill me, but Snow and Cedric had looked so friendly with each other. Had he been pretending? Or did he really want to live that badly, so much that he'd kill his friend? I'd never know the answer, since Cedric was most likely dead by now, and I doubted I'd get the chance to ask him if he even was alive.

Eventually, the tape ended with a fleeting image of Cedric at the ceremony in District Twelve still fresh in my mind. The others had already joined us, I didn't really notice much. Only when an Avox handed me a piping hot cup of cider did I look around, finally noticing that it was five o'clock. Sadly, I still had no idea how long Reiyla and I had been sitting here.

"You two probably did fine," Julie said, relaxing into Sheehan's embrace.

"I know I did," Quip spoke haughtily, a small smirk creeping up his face.

"We'll see, idiot," Kayt admonished.

Soon enough, the emblem of the Capitol appeared on the screen once more, the fanfare playing boldly. A picture of Beau popped up, his face serious and grim, the flashing number eight appearing next to him soon afterwards. Next, they showed Ditie, who had clearly mastered the art of looking cute and deadly at the same time. She received a nine, something that no doubt would be frustrating Beau right now. Caine's photo appeared next, the skinniest of the Careers receiving the same score that Beau had. His District partner, Jade, received a ten, the confident smirk she wore making it seem like she had already won.

Quip's eyes looked earnestly at the screen, letting out an audible sigh when he was scored a seven. No doubt he was worried that the Careers would kick him out of the alliance, yet a quick glance at him told a completely different story. He must have wanted that score on purpose, still trying to throw us all off on how we viewed him. I hate to admit it, but his method was proving rather successful.

Finally, I recognized myself on the screen. I looked a bit cold and calculating, my hair drawn back into a neat and firm ponytail. It didn't feel like me, but that was the person I'd have to be to win my Games. Crossing my fingers, my eyes widened a bit as I saw a flashing nine appear on the screen. I'd beaten Quip, Beau, and Caine. The Gamemakers thought that I had a higher chance of winning than them, or maybe they just wanted a target on my back. The second idea was thrown out the window, since Brine made the record of receiving a perfect twelve for his performance. Hopefully, someone else would take care of him; there was no way I wanted to kill him, let alone anyone else.

Amy Ivers received a ten, proving that the Gamemakers thought that it would be a District Four win this year. Not many other scores stood out, except for Poppy from District Eleven receiving an eight. All the others were fairly low, with the lowest possibly being Emily Summer's score of two.

"Seems the scored hard this year," Kristor blurted, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, so?" Quip questioned indifferently.

"Idiot," Kayt muttered, rolling her eyes before storming off to her room, Kristor quickly following her.

Reiyla paused, mentally telling the stylists to leave. Whatever she had to say, it must have been big. Big enough that she didn't want anyone to see our reactions. Quip didn't seem to really catch on, though he was clever enough that he ought to have. Our escort pursed her lips, her eyes roaming the room as she tried to think of a way to tell us whatever it was. Finally, her eyes seemed to settle on a spot directly behind me.

"The lower the scores," Reiyla said, "The harder the arena...The harder it will be for you to survive,"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER NINE**

_He had been walking alone, something he regretted as the cornered him. He was certain there was almost no hope for him now. He would never go home, this frightening him as they drew their blades. Whimpering, he woke up a girl from above, who watched with eyes too old for one so young…_

"And…presto!" Sheehan announced, grinning wildly as he ushered me in front of the mirror, "What do ya think, lassie?"

My interview dress was blue, the same color of the most beautiful lake I had ever seen. It was strapless, something that made me feel a bit uncomfortable, clinging loosely to my curves. For the most part the dress was flowing and simple, yet near the bottom Ezra had stitched in what looked like diamonds, yet were actually miniature screws. Something to remind me of home, they had told me with a grin. A light gloss had been put on my lips, giving them a slight shimmer to them. Mascara had been lightly brushed onto by eyelashes, accenting my brown eyes. Otherwise, my face was completely void of makeup.

"Awesome job, Sheehan," I told him with a grin.

Sheehan gave a little bow, his blue suit looking normal compared to Julie's balloon dress. I was rather glad that so far, they seemed to be better at designing then actually dressing themselves. Otherwise, I shudder to think what they could have dressed me up as.

"Bene, bene!" Julie praised, sipping what she called an ice mocha.

Reiyla bustled in, "We're running late! The first interviews start in five minutes!"

Today, my odd accented escort looked a bit more respectable, wearing golden boots, dress, and headband. Her hair was dyed a soft blue, hanging loosely while various gems decorated her face. One would have thought she was extremely beautiful, or the newest Superhero kids used to talk about before the Dark Days.

Sometimes, when I was bored, I would close my eyes and imagine what life would be like. What it would be like if there were no Districts, no Capitol, and no Hunger Games. To me, I see an immense forest, dotted with little blue houses and rivers winding their ways up the mountains. I see the birds singing, flying free as can be as the people roam the Earth below. But most importantly, I see my family, together again. All of those people who died, who suffered, who grieved; their troubles were no more. Yet I don't try to picture this too often, since it leaves me with a grave and yearning heart.

My blue haired escort corralled me into the elevator, where the black tuxedo wearing Quip was standing, seeming a bit exasperated.

"Could you have taken any longer?" He whined, moodily pushing at the button as soon as Reiyla was inside.

"Theoretically, I -"

"Stop it! Both of you!" Reiyla warned, "You two don't need to get into a fight right now! In five minutes, you're going to be watching District One's interviews. As always, they're going to do well. And that's because they're _prepared_ and _don't _get into cat fights beforehand!"

Quip nodded curtly, squaring his shoulders and looking away. He looked the same as he always did; a brooding figure with a mass of curly hair. Part of me wanted to know who his family was, what his life was like. Did he have someone to fight for waiting back home? Was he in the Community Home? Did he too have a sibling die in the Games? I hoped not. I knew how hard that was and I'd never want anyone to go through it. Not even President Snow; no one deserved to go through that ever again.

Yet each year, twenty three children would die. Each year, twenty three families would be grieving while one thanked their lucky stars. And each year, the entire population of the Capitol treated it like a festivity, a sporting event. It was cruel, it was inhuman, and sadly, it was reality. In the Dark Days, we truly learned that we did not live in a democracy. That we did not have a say in anything; we were merely puppets. They pretended that we weren't, yet the clever ones knew better. If it wasn't true, our children wouldn't be taken from us each year. I wouldn't be here; I'd be at home with Dad, and hopefully, Jenny.

The metal doors of the elevator opened, Reiyla hastily looking at the clock and screeching when she found out we only had three minutes. It made the entire walk to the stage feel like a blur, Reiyla ordering us sharply and huffing if we hesitated. We were ushered into our seats, positioned so that we could see everything, and in turn, everyone could see us. It felt like the entire Capitol was here to see us, though I knew that couldn't be true as Reiyla drilled into my head during the interview prep lessons that thousands upon thousands of people would be watching us from their homes.

Not to mention the array of oddly dressed people, milling around in the balconies above. Avoxes, dressed in white suits, served them a variety of refreshments and small snacks. If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were all attending a fancy part, like one of the few President Snow throws each year. With a pang, the small black haired girl's face is brought to mind, mocking me at sharing the name of her true killer. I don't dwell too much on her, brought back to reality about half way through Ditie's interview. I suppose I should listen, since it's a very strategic move to listen to these. Peeking beside me, Quip's eyes are completely focused on the dark haired beauty.

She looks so much like Snow. They could have been twins, if it wasn't for the eyes.

"-don't really care. As long as I win, I'm sure my family will be proud," Ditie replied, the beginning of her sentence unknown to me.

Caesar nodded approvingly, his red hair and eye makeup making me shudder. It looked as if one of the Tributes had come up and stabbed him over and over again, Caesar somehow managing to conduct the interviews after the onslaught. Eying the others, I decided that if anyone did it, it would be Poppy. She sat, cool and collected, ignoring Thyme's whispers and giving the scared twelve-year old no comfort. Most likely, Poppy would either be one of the first to die, or one of the very last. Whatever happened, I knew I didn't want to mess with her.

"Now, before our time is up, tell me about yourself," Caesar asked, his eyes twinkling in the light.

Ditie paused, straightening the hem of her deep red dress, "I'm an only child. I've always wanted to be in the Hunger Games ever since I saw Zeta Hurrers on her Victory Tour when I was five years old…And I find it _extremely _annoying when people don't say my name right. It's _Die_-Tee, not Dit-Tee!"

Caesar nodded, "Well, with that nine in training I certainly wouldn't say it wrong! Good luck, Ditie Meadows!"

The Capitol people cheered, a few of them crying as Ditie walked back over to her seat, though not before blowing a few kisses into the crowd. Beau stepped up next, wearing all black, and his stiff posture demanding power and attention. The majority of his interview was short answers, though he donned a smirk upon telling Caesar exactly how he planned to perform his first kill. It sickened me, yet the clueless audience ate it all up, applauding the murderous boy from District One.

The next one to come up to the stage was Jade, dressed in a short black dress with wisps hanging off of it, giving her the effect of being a creature of the night. Of course, it would have looked even spookier if she wasn't being interviewed in broad daylight. Her skin looked a ghastly pale, her lips a shinning crimson as she grinned slyly at the crowd, causing them to go ecstatic at the Dark Warrior. The coolest, and perhaps, creepiest thing is that they weaved fake spiders into her hair. You'd have to be dumber than a newborn to not be able to tell that they wanted to show her as the Mistress of Death; the next Victor for District Two.

Jade acted sly and elusive the whole time, making witty responses to all of Caesar's questions. Before any of us could blink, her interview was over and she had, somehow, received the greatest applause of the night. Giving a little boy, she imperiously walked over to her seat and sat down, having layer upon layer of praise showered on her from her mentors. With a chill, I noticed that one of them was Enobaria. No wonder Jade was so skilled with a knife; they must have taught knife throwing to a majority of the female population in District Two.

As was custom, the male tribute went next, Caine swaggering up to the stage in a sparkly red ensemble. He literally radiated confidence, making the Capitol women swoon at his tousled brown hair. Thankfully, his stylists decided that he could be sexy without being half naked. I'd rather not know that much about one of my so called allies.

"So, Caine, how do you like our fair city?" Caesar asked him as soon as he sat down.

Caine shrugged, "It's all right. Mainly a lot more cleaner then back at home…Haven't gotten cement on me once yet."

The interviewer chuckled, "Must be a record for you, eh?"

Caine cracked a grin, nodding, "Cement is the family business….Which means Dad and I do all the work."

"Well," Caesar started, nodding, "Mind telling us your strategy for this year's Games?"

Caine turned to look at him, reminding me so much of the Devil in his sparkly suit. Dad would have agreed, and might have even drawn devil horns on a picture of him. Sure, he was just a kid, but he was a true Career Tribute. He _liked _being in the Hunger Games, fighting children that had mostly come against their will.

"I'm going to win them, Caesar," he replied smirking, "And by any means necessary…"

"Well, I'm afraid our time is over. Best of luck, Caine Areon!"

Once again, the Capitol showered him with praise and affection. They too liked the Hunger Games; especially the Career Tributes, since they almost always give them a good show. Though, from the abundance of Avoxes, I think that some of them might not have liked the idea of the Hunger Games. It was a pleasant thought, that I might have an actual sympathizer out here in the Capitol. It turned dark when I remembered what the Capitol had done to all of its traitors to discourage such behavior in its citizens.

"And now we have from District Three, Miss Caitlyn Smith!" Caesar announced with a grin.

I felt a bit nervous, standing up and walking over to Caesar. I thanked my lucky stars that I wasn't in District Twelve, because if I was, I would have been a wreck by the time I was called up. I much preferred to get things over with, instead of drawing it out. When I sat down, I couldn't help but notice how much more ghastly his makeup looked up close. Really, I knew he did a different color each year, but red? Didn't they have a little bit of common sense in the Capitol? Wait, take that back; there was no way these people had common sense.

"Tell me, Caitlyn," Caesar began, "What's your opinion of the Capitol so far?"

Reminding myself to come off as logical, brilliant, and a little bit distant, I did a mental run through on my reply. It felt like I spent ages there, staring at Caesar, yet my accurate sense of time informed me that it had only been fifteen seconds. Just the same amount of time other people took in between their replies.

"It's very elegant and cultured," I replied, lying a bit as I thought of the wacky outfits, "And the people appear to be quite civilized…"

Grasping the personality I was trying to convey, Caesar adjusted his questions, "Now, I've heard rumors that you have been added to the Career Alliance. Care to tell more?"

Huh, the news spread fast. It made me really wonder who told them, but I felt a bit dumb upon realizing that our Mentors would have wanted to tell potential sponsors that even the Careers thought we had potential. After all, it's nearly always the Careers that win the Hunger Games, so a majority of the sponsors tend to bet on them. It must have worked, since I vaguely remember Sheehan or someone telling me that a man named Alois was sponsoring me…It was a funny name, Alois. It felt odd and foreign; but more so, it felt exciting and new. Sadly, I bet Alois was just the same as all the Capitol people, just betting on me because I had a pretty face and joined the Careers.

"It was a purely strategic move designed to boost my odds in the arena," I answered coldly, hoping that Dad would know that this was all for the cameras.

"And that strategy is?" Caesar inquired, leaning forward in his seat.

Smiling a bit, I replied without hesitation, "To be the smartest one."

In my head, I was picturing Dad watching earnestly, hoping that I was all right. If I knew him, he was currently trying to raise as much money possible to help sponsor me himself. Neither of us knew if it was against the rules, but it didn't matter to him. He had already lost a daughter; he didn't want to have to go through it again. And I, I knew that I didn't want to die. I wasn't ready to go; there was so much more that I haven't gotten a chance to do. I'd never get to finish High School, I'd never get to work my way up through the ranks and become the head engineer. I'd never get to see Luke again; to feel my heart skip a beat when he smiled. I'd never get to have a mock sleepover with Maria and her mother, Sarah Jane. I'd never get to do anything again. The only thing I'd have to look forward to would be nothingness; endless nothingness.

It scared me.

Caesar smiled with a gleam in his eye, "You must have a quite impressive strategy, scoring a nine in training…Now tell me about your family."

Faltering a bit, I struggled to come up with the right words. How could I tell them about my sister, my wonderful, wonderful sister? I just couldn't do her justice. I couldn't describe to them the way her smile would light up the whole room, how she was so caring, and not to mention loyal. And more so, I don't think I had the strength to tell them about how she died, six years ago, in the dreaded Games they were preparing me to compete in.

I couldn't tell them about Dad, my floppy haired dad with keen green eyes. I couldn't tell them about how he would sing to me in a language we made up when I was four, or how he would hold me when I had nightmares. They wouldn't be able to understand the protection he gave me; the peace of mind that came with his presence. It was just impossible, like two equaling zero. There was no solution for that question. It was an equation that I simply refused to graph, since I could not.

"…It's just Dad and me…," I said, only speaking to avoid looking weak in front of potential sponsors.

Caesar's eyebrows bunched up, "You wouldn't happen to have a sister, Caitlyn?"

Gulping quietly to myself, I nodded. I didn't want to have to talk about Jenny. Over the years, I found it extremely hard to, leaving me depressed and moody for days. Only with Dad could I discuss my sister, not even with Luke or Maria or even Sarah Jane, who was a bit of a mother figure towards me at times. No one else could understand who Jenny was, what she stood for, and why she mattered so much. That's another reason Dad and I are so close; no one else understood us Smiths. We were forever lonely, a curse as Dad called it at times.

"…Was her name Jenny?" Caesar asked gently, "Jenny Smith, Tribute from District Two-"

"Who placed second out of twenty four people…" I finished quietly for him.

The interviewer gazed at me, the whole teary conversation causing people to weep openly. I doubted that any of them remembered my sister, but they knew that she was a Tribute, too, and that she had almost won the Hunger Games. I remembered it vividly, haunting my dreams and reality. Right now, I wasn't thinking about winning sponsors or keeping myself to appear cool and collected. All I could hear was the screaming, all I could smell was the stench of blood, and all I could see was Jenny, falling to the ground, her white hair turning crimson. The same color of Caesar's hair and eye makeup for this year.

"You're so much like her, Caitlyn…," Caesar's voice said, louder than before, "I think District Three might just have a winner this year."

I was glad when my time was over and I was allowed to flee from the stage. When I sat down in my seat again, I closed my eyes, not noticing Reiyla place a hand on my back, and tried to keep from weeping. Unfortunately, I felt salty tears grace the palm of my hands, no doubt ruining Sheehan's hard work. I didn't care though; I found it extremely hard to care. It was all just too much for me to deal with; my sister's death brought up at my own Hunger Games.

I tried to listen to Quip's interview, yet the thunder in the distance sounded ominously like cannon fire…


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong. I apologize for a typing error I made saying that Jenny Smith was from District Two. Jenny Smith was actually from District Three. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER TEN**

_The girl walked for hours and hours, a never ceasing rhythm forming inside of her head. She was lost, cold, and lonely, yet she did not yield. Upon reaching the edge of her world, she fought a smile and climbed up a large oak tree. Sleep claimed her, guiding her to a world inside of her head, yet she felt no comfort…_

After Quip sat down, the people of the Capitol erupted into applause once more. I had no idea what he said or what he did, but I had thankfully ceased crying. Upon inspecting my wet hands, my makeup didn't even run too much, which led me to think that Sheehan had made it waterproof. Which, I thought to myself, was a very smart idea when being a stylist for someone who might be dead the next day.

Caesar Flickerman then called Amy up to the stage, her patterned dress making her look sweet and caring. It was a slightly odd angle for a Career, but it was no doubt designed to pull on the heart strings for sponsors. Everything she said was well thought out, and made everyone want to be her best friend. But when Caesar asked to talk Hunger Games, her face light up with a sadistic grin, gushing all about her favorite weapons and ways to murder someone. When the buzzer went off, she had the people of Panem eating out of her hands, her "sweet and sour" act doing exactly what it was designed for.

"And now, the moment we've all been waiting for….This year's favorite to win, Brine Loisdon from District Four!" Caesar announced, causing the entire audience to begin a thunderous applause before he could finish his sentence.

Brine smirked, walking up to Caesar like he owned the place. It would have been silly if he didn't tower above the rest of us, the very tallest tribute this year. Not even Poppy was able to match him in height; though, she might just be able to take him down. Thinking again of the twelve he had received in training, the likelihood of that happening lessened a bit.

Today, the leader of the Career Pack, _my _leader, I thought reluctantly, was wearing all black. His formal attire showed off his ripped body, emphasizing all of his muscles. No doubt, it was for him that caused all of the Capitol women to shriek in delight. They wanted a piece of this muscular tribute, and were going to sponsor him to ensure that they got it. Too bad, I'd be the one getting out of here, and not him.

"Hey, Caesar, my man," Brine greeted cockily, holding out his hand for a fist bump.

It might have just been the oddest thing I had ever seen. Yet still, Caesar obliged the young Career and turned his own hand into a fist, striking Brine's with his. Brine grinned widely, winking into the crowd at the now screaming Capitol ladies. No doubt that he was working with his good looks and not to natural talent to play their hearts. I've seen people do this strategy before, and somehow, only a couple of them actually win. Usually it's the either the cold hearted killers, or the sniveling cowards who no one bothered with until the final three.

"So, Brine, I want you to tell me your opinion of the Capitol," Caesar instructed friendlily, leaning back in his chair a bit.

"Oh, it's been a blast so far…," Brine answered, "Amazing food and people, especially the women," at that, one girl in the audience stood up and screeched joyfully, "Plus, I get to go into the arena the next day, so what's not to like?"

Caesar nodded approvingly, "I take it you're in it to win it. This is quite likely, since you earned a twelve in training. Any hints on to how you'll plan to win?"

Brine paused, his features hardening before loosening into a smirk, "By killing every last one of them," then he glanced at the tributes, looking at one of us, "Especially that one."

The cameras were zooming in on us, trying to figure out which one of us Brine was talking a bit. I schooled my features into a brave and determined look, as did the other Careers. I felt a quivering hand brush mine, yet I didn't quite pay attention, more focused on not looking like Brine's prey. Of course, it was a bit pointless, since we knew he wanted to kill each and every one of us. Jade and Ditie began to whisper, the former then leaning over to say something in my ear.

"He's dead at the Bloodbath. We're all going for him first," then smirking, "Pass it on. Don't tell Ivers."

Nodding a bit to my ally, I nudged Quip and shared him the information I was giving. Poor Amy, she just sat there and glared a bit at her District Partner, not getting to know his already sealed demise. I felt glad that they had felt to include me, probably because I had scored a rather high score in training. They considered me to truly be a Career, even though I knew I could be one, I didn't feel like one. I still felt like the geeky girl from District Three; the one who was still mourning the loss of her sister. Quip then turned to me, and nodded a bit with a smirk. Jade caught his eye, making it clear that she wanted to be the one to slit Brine's throat. I almost felt like asking him what color roses he'd like, yet I held my tongue.

The audience almost seemed to sigh a bit as Brine's buzzer went off, signaling the end of his interview. He walked down over and took his place beside Amy, the two of them exchanging compliments to each other. By tomorrow, at least one of them would be dead, yet a funny feeling told me that Amy wouldn't be around too long either.

Up next was a girl with ginger hair and blue eyes, her pale skin making me think she didn't go outside too often. Her dress was quite literally a rainbow, sparkling and glittering so much it was almost hard to look at. Her hair must have had at least 50 pins in it, elaborate braids tied together and stuck on top of her head. I'd pity her, if I hadn't learned from experience it wasn't all too hard to take the pins and such out later. Yet there was one thing that stuck out about the girl from District Five, Lily Gryffin, as I recalled.

"You came here with your brother, Lily," Caesar stated, more for the Capitol to understand, "What will you do?"

I found myself feeling sad for, listening to her explain how her brother was going to win the Hunger Games. My luck hadn't always been the best, even since my normal sized family shrank in numbers, yet Lily's was clearly worse. Not only had she been reaped for the Games, yet her younger brother had come as well. Emily, Calvin, and Thyme were who we called the pipsqueaks…Yet Lily was only thirteen years old, making Hugo twelve. The other ginger boy was certainly lucky; no one had called claims on his head yet.

By the time Lily reclaimed her seat, the entire Capitol must have been crying out for the Gryffins. Except for President Snow, I reminded myself, he'd more likely be grinning in anticipation for a showdown between brother and sister. When Hugo came up, Caesar tried to talk more about him and his sister, yet Hugo didn't do any of it. All of his replies were chipper and excited, as if he was just on vacation or having a slumber party. Eventually, Caesar stopped trying and just chatted with the hyperactive boy, making myself wonder if he did it for sponsors or not.

A blonde girl, wearing a bright pink dress, her hair an explosion of curls, went up to the stage next. Her name was Carla Brighten, and if you couldn't tell from her outfit, she was a very bubbly person. She and Caesar hit it off instantly, gossiping with each other, causing some of the Capitol girls to squeal, wanting to join in the conversation.

"So, Carla, got any boys back home?" Caesar asked, a bit jokingly.

"Oh yeah, I sure do!" Carla grinned, winking a bit at the audience.

"You must tell!" Caesar demanded, leaning forward in his seat, "You just must!"

Carla giggled, "Oh are you sure, Caesar-kins?"

The audience laughed lightly, including some of the tributes. No one had ever given Caesar a pet name before, so this would ensure that no one ever forgot her. Of course, the Capitol men seemed to be drooling a bit, staring at the curves that her pink dress clung tightly to. She and Brine must have gone for the same interview angle, with the exception that Carla didn't come off as a cold blooded killer to me, or certainly to anyone.

Caesar nodded, his hair bobbing comically. Part of me wondered if anyone would shout out to him about it, yet people were too entranced with Miss Carla Brighten. Leaning back in my seat, I continued to watch the seemingly harmless show that the Capitol had been providing for now seventy three years.

"Oh, well…," Carla replied, twirling her hair idly, "His name is Butch….He's my amazing little poochiekins!"

Caesar burst out laughing, realizing that she had been talking about her dog, "You are a card! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Carla Brighten!"

Carla curtsied to the crowd, struck a pose and blew a couple kisses before returning to her seat. There was no doubt in any of our minds about the number of sponsors she would win; she too had them eating out of her hand. Unfortunately, that gave her District partner a hard act to follow. Jespin tried his best, yet they didn't applaud nearly as much for him as they had for anyone else.

Aspen Frolls came up next, representing the females of District Seven. She was a quiet girl, though not actually too shy. From the smirks and knowing looks, I bet that she had a scheme cooking up in her little head. In fact, she looked quiet intelligent to me, almost as smart as I was, and she was only two years younger. It made me wonder what exactly she had been doing in District Seven, since they didn't typically have extreme geniuses like Districts Three and Five would. Even Aspen's dress seemed to follow her act, a subtle black number with slight silver detailing. Looking closer, one would see that they represented the pine trees that were so common in her District.

Once again, the ladies swooned as a good looking brown haired boy walked up to the stage. Unlike the other tributes, he was simply dressed in a plaid shirt, the top buttons undone. Yet as what seemed mandatory for the boys, he wore slacks instead of the jeans one would typically pair with this ensemble. He no doubt worked with his father, chopping down trees so that Panem could have a fresh supply of wood. His features were chiseled, his skin looking like it should from spending many days out in the sun. Yet the thing that I, no doubt the other Careers as well, was looking at was his muscles. He was fairly ripped, especially in the arms, probably skilled with an axe. Recalling his training score, I remembered that he had scored a seven, just like Quip had.

The boy's name was Jack, Jack Harkens, which he told with a grin. The entire interview he acted funny, a bit kind, sarcastic, and scarily ready to do whatever it took to survive. I admired him a bit, yet from a glance towards Brine and Amy, I could tell that they were shaking with fury. Whatever had brushed them the wrong way, I wouldn't know, and I doubted I would ever get a chance to ask.

Emily and Calvin were each sweet little things, talking respectively towards Caesar with big smiles on their faces. Tears were almost shed, knowing that they would most likely be dead by tomorrow night. I prayed that they would sleep peacefully.

"Oh, thanks y'all," Basil Kobayashi from District Nine said, jerking me from my mournful thoughts near the end of her interview.

Her hair was a brownish red color; her skin the color of Dad's tan coat, and her eyes a bright brown. She seemed so happy to be here, another thing I suspected was just an act. I honestly couldn't fathom how someone would enjoy the Hunger Games, yet when I looked at the tributes from One, Two, and Four, I found myself biting my tongue. It was all about how you viewed them; I viewed them as slaughter, while others thought they were glory filled.

"You know, I must say that I absolutely love your accent," Caesar praised, causing Basil's delicate features to turn a bit red.

"Thanks, sir. It's me a lot ta me," Basil replied.

The Capitol yelled for Basil to talk more and use more of the District Nine lingo. Instead, she shook her head, "Tex can show y'all something real good, sirs and ma'ams. Cross mah heart."

Tex fulfilled his promise, using almost all of his interview time to just talk and talk and talk. According to my dad, some of the people in District Nine had what they called a Southern Accent, which made sense to me. I once asked him what our accent was called, yet he wasn't all too sure. Around eighteen minutes later, they led all of the tributes back onto the stage for a final round of applause.

They clapped for the Career Tributes, knowing we'd win. They clapped for Lily and Hugo, feeling saddened by their story. They clapped for Brine, Carla, Jack, Adam, and Jay, loving the way that they looked. They clapped for Emily, Calvin, Hugo, and Thyme, wishing the twelve year olds best of luck. They clapped for Jespin, Aspen, Arissa, and Kitty, wondering if an underdog could win. They clapped for Basil and Tex, still enthralled by their accents. They clapped for Poppy, mystified by her silent power.

And they clapped for our deaths.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

_Gathering up her pack, she paid no attention as the true killers descended from above. She told herself a story from when she was young, a favorite of hers. It helped keep her sane and helped her shed no tears, the cannon blasts still fresh in her head. Guzzling down some water, she took off of the trail and began her journey once more…_

That night, I dreamt of songbirds in a meadow carpeted with the greenest grass I had ever seen. A waterfall cascaded over a cliff, creating a lake, somehow leaving no ripples in the glass water. My clothing was white, delicate like silk, yet warmer than I knew that material could be. It would have puzzled me, yet I saw two figures talking in hushed tones, stroking a blue bird. One of them was tall, broad shouldered, though her smile was as dazzling as the sun. Next to her, an older woman sang a song in hushed tones I couldn't make out. Her hair fell gracefully down her shoulders, the color of golden honey. Approaching them, I tried to ask them who they were, yet they shook their head and insisted I needed to wake up. And so, I reluctantly did, forgetting the dream almost instantly.

A shock of blue hair stood above me, "Come on, dear, it's time."

Nodding, I climbed out of bed, feeling a slight sense of déjà vu. With a pang of guilt, I realized that it was my father whom Reiyla was reminding me of. Though, they didn't seem anything alike; they were just too different. Perhaps Reiyla reminded me of Jenny…? No…They too were almost polar opposites. For the life of me, I just couldn't place who Reiyla was similar to, something that frustrated me as I was lead to the breakfast table.

Reiyla and I were the first ones up, Kayt and Kristor coming together a few minutes later. They couldn't stay all too long, as the mentors had their own area to stay during the Games. Our breakfast was spent in silence, Quip showing up almost ten minutes later. As soon as Quip sat down at the table, Kristor motioned for me, asking if we could talk in private.

Once we had stepped inside a room, Reiyla's, I noted, Kristor turned to me, "I know you joined up with the Careers, but I would trust them more than I would trust Quip."

I felt a bit startled, though logic told me that Kristor was right. Quip had been unpredictable the entire time that we had been at the Capitol, which I think was a week or so. I wasn't all too sure, since we spent most of our time training and being paraded around like dolls. No one but Quip knew what he would be planning to do once we were in the arena. Nodding at my mentor, he exchanged a small smile, saying something I'm sure no mentor would want to say.

"You're my favorite, Cait," he said, "I think you can win."

Sooner than I would have liked, Reiyla was ushering us onto the hovercraft. Looking down, I spent the three hour journey trying to figure out what kind of arena we would be in. Part of me knew it was pointless to try and guess that way, yet I felt better knowing as much information as possible. I glanced around, trying to see how many people's names I still knew. I knew all of them; that wouldn't help later. Next to me sat the girl from District Twelve, a fourteen year old named Kitty. Her hair was a reddish brown, no doubt pulled into a messy ponytail from nervousness this morning. When the women inserted her tracker into her arm, I saw a slight tear go down her cheek.

To my left was a quivering boy, he must have been Jespin, I thought to myself. His skin was dripping with sweat, causing him to give an anguished cry as the tracker was placed inside of his arm. I knew a minute later that it didn't a hurt a bit; it hurt a lot. Yet, reminding myself to remain my appearance as a Career, I bit my tongue so as to not let out a strangled gasp.

"You will each have five minutes as your stylist prepares you. You will wait for sixty seconds before the Games will begin. If you step off your platform early, you will be blown up by the mines," the woman said cruelly, "And may the odds be ever in your favor."

Once we were landed, each of us was taken to our own separate prep room. In the whole existence of Panem, these rooms were never and will never be reused. Some of the Capitol people enjoyed to tour them, visiting the prep rooms of their favorite tributes. Dad told me that before there was Panem, people could go wherever they liked and see all sorts of wonderful things. Even people from different parts of the world could go and see the President's house up close and in person, without the fear of being shot for false charges. People could go and see historical sites as well, and gaze upon the most official documents without the slightest bit of fear. It sounded wonderful to me, and I wished I had been born then, instead of now. Yet, both of those things rang as impossible inside of my head.

Sheehan gave me a grave smile, stripping me down and suiting me up. The pants were black, streaked with red, and made from some sort of flexible material. Thank goodness they were waterproof and insulated as well; they didn't really look like they'd provide much protection to me. A dark blue long sleeve shirt, the color that I got to select myself, was added on next, made out of cotton by the feel. Finally, a black jacket, also with red stripes, was zipped on top, being made from the same material as the pants. Sheehan placed thick wool socks on my feet, then a dark brown boot with several laces. For some reason, we were provided with gloves as well, grips on each of the fingers. Logical reasoning told me that we would have to climb something, and perhaps the Capitol decided to be a bit kind and lessen the difficulty of our task slightly. Finally, he braided back my blonde hair, keeping the bangs out of my eyes; the single braid designed to make it a bit harder for someone to grab my hair.

He turned to me, glanced around as if to make sure no one was watching, and whispered, "I'm so so sorry…"

Looking into his eyes, I was a bit shocked to realize that they were brown. So many people here had brown eyes; it made my own eyes water a bit. Without even thinking about it, I embraced Sheehan in a quick hug, which he returned. I felt safe, even if it would only be for a second. He reluctantly let go, guiding me onto the tube that would shoot me up into the arena. Something told me that he didn't always hug the tributes he styled for.

Looking at him, I blurted, "If I don't make it, tell Dad I love him! Tell him I'm okay!"

Too soon, I was sealed off from the rest of the world, and shot up into the arena. I didn't get to see or hear what Sheehan's reply was. It saddened me greatly, yet I quickly composed myself, squinting, so my eyes would not be shocked by the light. In my head, I began a countdown, providing a slight comfort. Going over the facts, I smiled a bit to a person who wasn't there, and hadn't been for a while. I'd be okay; after all, I had joined up with the Careers. It's extremely rare that a Career doesn't survive the Bloodbath, and the Gamemakers must have provided some throwing stars, just for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was not nearly as bright as I had expected. The atmosphere of the arena was dark and gloomy, storm clouds rolling in above us. In the distance, I could hear thunder booming and lightning striking with a sickening crack. Thankfully, it hadn't begun to rain, yet a feeling in my gut said that wouldn't last all too long. All twenty four of us formed a circle, facing the Cornucopia which glinted golden, despite the sinister sky. Weapons and packs spilled out of it, everyone eying the forbidden treasures.

All around the country of Panem, schools would be assembling together in front of a big screen. People at work would be given their breaks early, gathering at home or in the town square. Homemakers sat, babies and toddlers in hand, staring at the TV screen some of them owned. Everyone was waiting, an eerie silence surely enveloping, broken only by the sobs of those who's loved one was on a platform. In the Capitol, people were sipping cocktails, exchanging slips of paper on which of us would make it out of the Bloodbath. The Mentors were sitting, ready to figure out what sponsor gifts to distribute. Yet, I couldn't help but dwell upon the name of the man who was sponsoring me. Was he doing the same thing as the other people? Or was the mysterious Alois like my father, hoping and crossing his fingers that I'd make it out okay?

Realizing that I had wasted thirty of my precious seconds thinking about other people, I looked around me to examine the arena. To my right was Jack, bouncing lightly on his pedestal, ready to go and fight. Next to him stood Beau, already eyeing his prey as if he had already won the fight. On my left was little Emily, surveying the arena with wide eyes before settling on a bag set in front of us. Something inside of it was glinting, leading me to hope that it was my throwing stars. I knew that no matter what, I'd beat her to them first.

The Gamemakers must have wanted a pretty elaborate Hunger Games this year, judging from the city to the northeast of me. I glanced up and down at the shinning buildings, covered with windows, and I thought it was too good to be true. The saying 'there's no such thing as free lunch' was almost rule number one here in the arena. Those buildings must have been a trap, determined to draw in the weak. Emily must have seen the city as well, angling her feet to run towards it as fast as she could, instead of the dense forest behind her.

A vast sea lied in the northwest, the waves crashing angrily onto the beach, dousing the sand with spray. Squinting, I could barely make out a small oasis on the other side; no doubt a reward for any tributes who actually knew how to swim. With a chuckle, I realized that was just about the only skill they didn't teach you during training. Unfortunately, it just served as an advantage to Amy and Brine, and perhaps the few others who also knew how.

With only fifteen seconds left, I quickly turned to glance behind me. Tall, steep mountains greeted me, tumbling rocks creating a slight drum sound. A howling sound echoed, telling me that the refuge among the mountains came with the danger of wolves and wild dogs. Caves were scattered here and there, no doubt playing home to bears, and the scared tributes. Remembering my guess from earlier, I confirmed that the Gamemakers intended us to have to climb a bit to get up. The highest cave had an enormous drop, I having to crane my neck in order to get a good look at it. With certainty, I knew I would not want to go explore that area alone. Though, I knew that most likely, the Careers would have Quip or I on guard duty, that being the reason he probably got us into the pack. Still, I couldn't help but ponder what he had said, or what he had done to get us into the alliance. Too bad I'd likely never find out.

Finally, I spent the very little time I had before it started to locate where Brine was. He stood about five platforms to my right, right next to Quip, whom was right next to Jade. Luckily, Brine's District Partner wasn't near him at all, so she wouldn't be able to aid him as the battle started. Hopefully, Tex and Arissa would be able to keep her occupied, which is something I didn't doubt, looking at the glint in Arissa's pale golden brown eyes. Ditie and Caine formed a line, the almost perfect diameter of the circle, so they would certainly be able to prevent her if she did get past Arissa. Taking a deep breath, I stood lightly on the balls of my feet, knowing that my speed would be quicker this way. Bending my knees, I began the countdown silently…

_Five…_

Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria must have been watching this together; sitting in their little home, using the excuse of a relation to the tribute to pull Luke and Maria out of school.

_Four…_

Was Jenny watching up from above? Were Mother and her praying for me, hoping that I'd make it out okay?

_Three…_

Quip's family must have been watching this too, hoping that he'd be the Victor. I hoped that they'd be all right.

_Two…_

Dad must have been watching this with Sarah Jane too. Was he okay? Was he crying? Or did he feel confident that I'd make it?

_One…_

He knew I loved him, didn't he?

_Zero…_


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_The pair talked silently, exchanging stories and bread. She skillfully drew an arrow, aiming at their hearts. Two hearts; beating as one. Letting go, a life was ended and a sentence was never finished. With an anguished cry, the living one charged into the bushes, only to fall to his doom…_

My feet hit the ground running, easily beating Emily to the bag. With a triumphant whoop, I pulled out my beloved throwing stars. The Gamemakers must have wanted to make sure I got them, even placing me near them. I paused for a second, wondering when I became so excited to get a weapon, yet I sprang into action quickly enough. Right in front of me stood a girl with reddish brown hair, hoisting a spear. We both knew I wouldn't be able to dodge it quickly enough, though I had a slight element of surprise; she couldn't see my throwing stars. Frowning, I quickly threw two, hitting spot on, causing the girl to fall to the ground, bleeding heavily. After a couple minutes, her head lay limp, and I recognized her as Basil Kobayashi. I sent a silent sorry to her, removing the throwing stars from her body, and hoping that she'd rest in peace, then charging towards the Cornucopia once more.

One my way, I spotted Jade working her way towards Brine, her arms a blur, the silver of her knives glinting in the light. Tribute after tribute fell from her path of fury and destruction, though common sense told me that it could have only been a couple. Most of them had fled; in fact, I could see Kitty Ridyne sprinting off into the mountains.

"YOU'RE MINE, CAREER!" A large boy shouted, tackling me to the ground.

I blinked, recovering from my surprise just in time to jerk my head out of the way of his fists. It was Adam Fields, the boy from District Ten. He was strong, a brutal force, that was determined to end my existence. I felt helpless, knowing that my throwing stars wouldn't be nearly as dangerous up close and personal. My life didn't flash before my eyes, yet I felt like it was; the experience was strange. I'd never really brushed with death before, always imagining it as a cloaked figure in my head.

"YOU'LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID TO BLAIR!" Adam yelled, even more enraged.

I felt like shouting back at him, but I knew it wouldn't help. Instead, I recalled what the trainer at the hand to hand combat station had told me, realizing I'd have a hard time fighting anyone off. Hooking my leg around his, I planted my opposite arm on the ground behind me. He spat in my face, momentarily ceasing in his punches. I quickly pushed, pulling Adam off balance, allowing me to clamber on top of him. Sitting upon him correctly, I knew I had complete control of him, yet I felt hesitant. I started to stand up, to allow him to go, when an arrow pierced his heart. Glancing in the direction of which it came, I saw Ditie sporting a triumphant grin, motioning me to join the others in the fight against Brine.

There were five of us standing there, our weapons all drawn. Brine looked confused, turning to see if any other Tributes remained behind him, yet there was no one there. They had all left, knowing that they would gain their lives if they did. Quip, I noticed, was carrying a hammer, red spotting parts of it. That must have been his secret talent, the thing he had shown the Gamemakers in order to earn that seven. Beau stood closest to Brine, a bloodthirsty look on his face as he aimed his spear.

"Is this it then?" Brine asked with a barking laugh, "You bluff! All of you!"

Silence was his only answer, I cleaning my throwing star off on my pants. I didn't want to be reminded of Basil; though I told myself it was only through self defense that I did it. From here on, I promised that I wouldn't become like the other Careers; I'd only do what they did in defense. I wanted to come home, I wanted to come home, I wanted to come home; I _needed _to come home.

"Are you all going to kill _me?" _he yelled, "Your leader? The only one with the only bloody twelve in the seventy third annual Hunger Games!"

Once again, no one said anything. But this time, Jade stepped forward, a blade with a crystal handle in her hand. Her eyes were narrowed; her stance slightly crouched like a predator. Circling each other, Brine blocked each slash with his trident, taking on no injury. However, to her credit, Jade remained in perfect condition as well. The two of them were like dueling lions, but then something happened that I don't think either of them expected.

Caine appeared out of the bushes, throwing his sword at Brine, whom had no time at all to dodge. It pierced through him, jutting out dangerously close to his heart. Brine tumbled to the ground, breathing and bleeding heavily. His tormentors smirked; Jade huffing a bit that she hadn't been the one to bring the District Four tribute to his knees.

"May the odds be ever in your favor," she muttered, slitting his throat, "Brine Loisdon from District Four."

Pulling out the sword, she lightly tossed it back to Caine, grinning as she walked back over to us, "Well, looks like no one has a twelve anymore."

In the distance, I swear I could hear a cry of pain, but no one else even glanced, so I assumed it was nothing. Perhaps it was just a bird, a mutation of the Capitol designed to put us off of our edge. Yet…I couldn't help but notice that Amy was missing from the group. Had she been killed too?

The now six of us trudged back to the Cornucopia, a silent agreement to clean it out of all supplies before the Capitol worked came to collect the fallen. Thankfully, the boys were assigned the supposed honor of grabbing the weapons from the dead, us girls collecting our new supplies from a slightly less bloodstained area. I slung a thick, durable, green canvas bag onto my back, loaded with hunting knives, water, a few matches, and some preserved fruit. It wouldn't last me all too long, yet it would last long enough for me to find new supplies, if I did end up leaving the alliance sooner rather than later.

We walked up the sloping hill, sitting in the calm and soothing grass as the hovercrafts swept in. Quickly and efficiently, they swooped down and collected them all, leaving the Cornucopia area looking immaculate once more. I looked around, up at the sun which now seemed to be shinning, as if this was a bright and beautiful day. It was rather comical, the things the Gamemakers would do to the arena sometimes, just to get the Capitol people more in the mood. Yet as the first cannon fired, I wasn't looking at my own arena anymore; I was looking at Jenny's. Each time the cannon fired, my sister screamed, sounding wounded and hurt. She screamed five times, causing me to have to grip the straps of my backpack tightly to avoid crying. If I cried, they'd soon have to fire off another cannon blast, just for me.

All of us turned to look at Caine, who somehow had been voted the new leader. Funny, I didn't quite remember receiving a ballot, and if I did, his name certainly wouldn't have been on it. Alas, the Hunger Games and the word democracy seldom mixed without feuding. Still, I was a bit surprised that Jade hadn't been the one to take charge, since she was the one that actually killed Brine. Maybe she had a scheme planned, and one she couldn't pull off if she was in charge…The very thought of it made me feel like a naughty child, sneaking out of bed, waiting in silence to be caught; not a very pleasant feeling at all.

"We split up into groups of three…minus one person for guard duty. Any volunteers?" Caine asked, a bit of an edge lacing his voice.

Quip stepped forward, chuckling, "I volunteer as tribute!"

The response to his question was an indeed mixed reaction; some of them glared, others snickered, and one stared off into space. Those who had indeed volunteered for the Hunger Games were furious, shaking slightly with clenched fists. It enraged them that someone who appeared so weak at their reaping would so openly mock the, in their opinion, bravest citizens in Panem. Quip, however, paid them no attention, not even gracing them with the slightest scowl. Those who hadn't volunteered, though clearly wanted to be in the Games, laughed at him, taking him for a clown, purely for their own amusement.

Caine stepped forward, grabbing Quip by the scruff of his neck. His stance was challenging, his eyes were wild, his sword swinging a bit carelessly from his left hand. We all knew that he could kill Quip in seconds, yet the strange boy from District Three didn't quiver in the slightest. If there was one thing I thought I knew for sure, it was that Quip Colkdin may have been one of the bravest people I would ever meet. Caine, obviously seeing that Quip wouldn't back down, gave him a slight nod of respect and released him.

"District Three will be on guard duty," Caine commanded, "Smith, I want you to track down Ivers. Find out where she ran off to, and then report back here. Jade, Ditie, you two will head west. Beau and I will be going east. Understood?"

We all nodded, almost in perfect unison, before splitting up our separate ways. I had no intentions of actually killing anyone, just to look for the District Four Girl and come back here. Grabbing a bit more supplies, I loaded them into my backpack and set off once more, this time towards the city. It was near a sea, which made me think that she may have been hiding out there. Of course, I had thought she too had been taken down in the Bloodbath, but that must not have been the case.

Reaching the cobblestone path, I listened carefully, but all I could hear was silence. It was all too quiet, making me feel a tad bit nervous. Back home, you could almost always hear a slight hum of machinery, echoing off the walls, sometimes even into the dense forest. It seemed alien not to hear it, the stillness enveloping me as I walked through the lonely city.

Each building was tall, a grainy white with huge glass windows on half of the sides. From a glance, it was quite easy to tell what, or who, was lurking inside of them. No doubt the Gamemakers had intended that, providing a false shelter. Still, I felt like there was an even greater danger in this city, one that I hadn't quite thought about.

"What if she sees us, Tex?" A voice whispered, full of fear.

I tensed almost immediately, looking around for the source of it. If there hadn't been a strong wind, coming up suddenly, no doubt the work of a Gamemaker, it would have been easy to tell where it came from. Alas, it was thrown off the walls, bouncing with a slight echo, making it feel like I was surrounded by scared Tributes. I very well may have, which wasn't the most comforting thought. Gulping slightly, I hoped my features weren't becoming paler as I reached into my pocket, feeling the sharp edges of my throwing stars. They'd become a comfort in the short time I'd spent in the arena, which couldn't have been more than twelve hours.

"Be quiet, Kitty!" Another voice, male this time, whispered harshly.

They must not have known I heard them, I concluded. Thinking hard, I turned right and went inside of the nearest building. Each floor had a flight of stairs, a hard concrete with a red rug running down them. Rooms were located here and there, a quick glance inside revealing the occasional broom, chair, and rarely, cupboard. For every room I entered, I listened carefully, trying to hear the slightest sound of breathing.

When I reached the top floor, I slowly turned around, hearing exactly what I had been listening for. Tex and Kitty stood next to each other, armed with brooms, the splintered edges suggesting that they had modified them into a more suitable weapon. I tried to keep myself seem like a Career, yet I felt the façade slip, the Girl from District Three peering at them. They had family's they'd want to get back too, people they wanted to see, and promises they wanted to keep. What right did I have to put myself above them?

It was one question I just couldn't answer. And one that I doubted I ever could.

"Well, what are ya gonna do?" Tex asked, his drawl apparent.

"Yeah!" Kitty huffed, obviously not liking being kept in the dark.

I opened my mouth, trying to think of what to say, when I found myself turn around and run down the stairs. There wasn't any reason to my actions, something I would soon be painfully reminded of. Tex threw his broom at me, using it look a spear. Luckily, it merely grazed my arm, smearing it with freshly shed blood. By the time I escaped the concrete building, the world began to shake, and I high tailed it out of the city.

Rain and wind whipped my hair out of its pony tail, yet I paid it not attention. Two of the buildings, tall and strong, were no longer there. An explosion shook the arena, prompting me to dive to the ground. We didn't experience many Earthquakes in District Three, but we did have the occasional drill every now and then. Smiling a bit, I knew that any Tribute from District Seven would be right at home right now, since their District is located on top of a fault line. And what sounded like thunder was the now unmistakable sound of a cannon; someone had died.

I spent the next few hours walking towards the ocean shore, and upon reaching it, trying to see if any tracks could be found. There was none there, long since swept away by the tides, which came erratically, seeming nothing like the textbooks had said they would. In the distance, I could see what looked like a tiny island, covered in tropical trees and plants. If Amy Ivers had hidden anywhere in the arena, it would have been there. Only someone from District Four would have been able to reach it, since only they would be able to swim the calamity that was the small ocean. I made sure that no one else was around, sending a quick prayer that Amy Ivers was there, safe and sound. Someone in this arena shouldn't have to worry, even if it couldn't be me, as much as I wanted it to be me.

The Capitol anthem blared out of the sky as I walked back to camp, causing me to pause in my tracks. I hadn't been paying too much attention to the cannon blasts when I spent time at the beach, yet I knew there had been a couple. No one from Districts One, Two, or Three died today, something that I had expected to happen. The first image to appear, glaring down at me, was none other than Brine Loisdon. The image of his District Partner did not appear, drawing a tiny smile out of me. Brine's image was replaced with Jespin, the boy from District Six, whom I remember seeing at the knots station. Next came Jack from District Seven, oddly yet another boy who didn't live to see the next day. Little Calvin appeared, panging my heart with sadness, which only greatened when Basil Kobayashi stared down at me. Adam from District Ten appeared, followed by both Tributes from District Eleven. The last image of the night was Jay Jonroe, the dark haired Tribute from District Twelve.

When the anthem played once more, I reached the camp. The faces were light by the flames of the fire, talking in hushed whispers. No one bothered with me as I approached, Caine giving me a questioning look. I shook my head slightly, pointing to the small sea the Gamemakers had placed into the arena.

"I think she's on that island. We'd need someone who's an excellent swimmer to reach her," I informed, nibbling on some dried fruit.

Quip lifted his head, looking eerie in the ember's glow, "Or a raft. We could build one, couldn't we?"

Glancing at the forest behind me, I nodded. There would have been an axe somewhere in the Cornucopia, no doubt for one of the District Seven Tributes. And they'd almost never have a shortage of rope, something that we all needed for our traps, knots, and snares. A blanket could be used for a sail, providing that it was waterproof; otherwise, it wouldn't be able to bare the difficult weather I found at the beach. In theory, we could make a raft to reach the District Four Tribute, yet a nagging voice in my head insisted that it would only end with tragedy. I didn't tell the voice to shut up, and I didn't listen to it either. I just merely sat and listened, hoping that none of them would decide to murder me in my sleep.

"So…What's the tally, Meadows?" Caine questioned the dark haired girl.

"Nine down, fourteen to go," Ditie responded, cleaning her blood stained arrowheads.

Nine down, fourteen to go, and five of those fourteen were my alliance members. I'd have to outlive fourteen people, all of whom were trying to do the exact same thing I was. For a brief moment, I felt myself begin to despair. It seemed like such an impossible mission, even though I knew that wasn't at all the case. After all, there had been a total of seventy two Victors of the Hunger Games. I'd be the one to make is seventy three. I was a Smith; it was in my blood to do the impossible. Quip was put on the first shift that night, us agreeing to go backwards through the Districts, meaning that my shift would be second.

I dreamt of beautiful white roses, each one of them turning the darkest crimson.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong. **Also, please please please review! I've only gotten one review and the traffic stats say that I've gotten tons of readers! If you've got any idea you want to share, PM me or leave them in a review! Thanks!**

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

_The sky lit up with the faces, each of them long since lost, with little to no goodbye. She felt no query, merely looking up before settling on the hunt once more. If she didn't do this task, she would not be able to go home ever again, something she had promised her little one. Something she had promised the crying blonde, her brown eyes the color of her fathers. She had promised her little Mosdrashy this. And so, she went on the move once more…_

When most people wake up, it's usually to the sound of birds singing. Or maybe someone is gently shaking them awake, making sure that they'll be ready for the next day. I'd never had a bucket of cold water thrown on me whilst I slept, yet I'm pretty sure this may have been what it felt like. See, I didn't wake up to Quip shaking me, getting me ready for my shift. I woke to the sound of a cannon; hollow and final. In my haste to find out who it was, I panicked that it was my own cannon. Logic didn't matter right now, only opening my eyes to see what greeted me. Whatever I saw, I hope it wasn't the face of my sister whom I lost long, long ago.

Shadows were etched onto the ground, the other Careers racing out of their tents. I frantically grabbed my weapons, just in case this may be a battle for my life, and followed them out. Moonlight lit the entire arena, giving off a slight ghostly glow. Chillingly, the howls of wolves echoed from the mountains. Quip, however, remained on his guard post, intently scanning the area. All of us were here; none of the Careers had fallen.

"So they're picking themselves off," Beau commented, chortling a bit.

"Yeah, you know what that means?" Caine added, smirking as he drew his sword.

Ditie emerged from the cloak of darkness, her bow already on her shoulder and quiver at her side. Beau walked over to her, grinning as he looked through the available weapons. From what I've seen so far, he enjoyed the element of surprise, so much that he would purposefully choose a different weapon each and every time. Today, he chose a scythe, long and brutal, the tip glinting a bit. And as always, Caine brought up the front of our hunting pack, idly thrusting his spear into midair, no doubt picturing the next series of gruesome murders. He reminded me of Death, a figure with a black hood and cold blue eyes, sweeping down from above with his followers; us. Once more, he commanded Quip to stay at the camp, beckoning for Jade to come with us. She smiled slyly, refusing our offer ominously.

"Beau, Smith, you two are backup for Meadows and I," Caine ordered as we trudged into the forest, "Argue and they'll be two new cannons tonight."

They didn't even wait for us to reply, stalking off into the night like hunters. Truly, they were hunters, an extremely odd pair, the dark haired girl and the fair haired boy. Sadly it wasn't always the case nowadays; children hunted children all the time in these Games. There was almost no way I could deny being scared, left alone with the cold hearted killer from District One. I barely knew anything about him; what if he was unpredictable like Quip?

A twig snapped in the distance, Beau's head snapping towards it. I fingered the bandage on my arm a bit, wondering if it could be Kitty and Tex. Had one of them been the cannon we'd woke to? Were they still holed up in the building, hoping it wouldn't be destroyed by the Capitol's bombs? I could almost picture them, sitting silently, praying that we wouldn't stray their way once more in our search. A figure moved out from the trees, the blonde hair leading me to believe that it was Jade, sneaking up on us to move in for the kill. No one would know that she had already betrayed the alliance; they wouldn't be able to witness our murder. Out here, in the dark and quiet night, not even the birds would be able to see her come.

Yet it wasn't Jade Abney that stepped out of the shadows. The girl's eyes were colder, a despicable pale blue, and her hair seemed to be a dazzling golden. Everything about her seemed a bit weary, though the smile worn on her face contradicted that. Thinking for a moment, I realized that she was none other than Carla Brighten, Tribute from District Six. I'd remembered her as being bubbly, giggling entirely way too much in her interview. But now in the arena, I couldn't even catch a glimpse of that girl from before. Her cheek was bleeding heavily, a deep gash marring her once beautiful features, and a slight crookedness in her leg suggesting it was broken. All of the facts pointed towards Beau and I taking her out quite easily; logic wasn't on our side.

"Why hello there," Carla stated, sounding innocent, "Taking a midnight stroll?"

Chuckling, Beau leaned a bit, "Something like that, sweetheart."

Carla swayed on closer, and I eyed her warily, not exactly sure what she was up to. This was the arena, not some sort of dance, yet she seemed to be treating it like one. Eventually, the two of them had their bodies pressed up against each other, breathing heavily. Lust radiated off of them in waves, causing me to advert my eyes, if only briefly. To my displeasure, the sounds of squishy, wet, and intimate kissing were soon quite audible. With no doubt several cameras would be pointed at them; the Capitol always loved seeing Lovers in the arena.

I walked a bit away from them, leaning against a tree. It felt like they stood like that forever, embraced in each other's arms. And that's when the Cannon fired twice, both of them slumping to the ground, dead. Before I could even blink, a searing pang erupted into my stomach, the blade of an axe embedded in it. Acting without thinking, I ran from the forest, the sound of another cannon following me out. By the time I reached the Cornucopia once more, my top had been soaked with blood, the axe stuck deeply into my wound.

"What happened?" Quip blurted as Jade pushed him aside.

She looked intently at my wound, "My, my. Who was out there…? Better get you fixed up, I suppose."

The tiny killer yanked the axe blade out, causing myself to bite down on my lip in pain. She grabbed a balm from her pack, spread it over the wound and tightly wrapped it in gauze. The entire time, her face was slightly compassionate, as if she didn't want me to feel this pain. I wouldn't believe it though, Jade finally stepping back to examine her handy work.

Nodding slightly, she turned and walked back into her tent, adding as she left, "You're lucky you didn't die."

Quip stared into the fire, still not saying a single word. I sat down next to him, high on adrenaline from the small brush with death. Beau had died right in front of me, right after I had compared him to the figure that haunted my dreams and created my nightmares. Carla had died too, snogging him being her final act. It would have seemed funny, had it not been very real and extremely vivid. The hovercrafts had already swept in to remove the dead, leaving us with no clue as to what got them, the exception being the blood smattered axe lying on the floor next to me.

The slowly rising sun reminded us that we wouldn't know until tonight, when they showed the faces of the dead. Beau's face would be up there, perhaps Ditie's or Caine's. Those two still hadn't returned to camp, Quip assuring me that it had been exactly two hours, twenty four minutes, and thirty two seconds since they had departed. By the time they returned, bruised and bleeding, the sun was already high in the sky.

"That brat got away!" Caine fumed, storming into his tent.

Ditie sighed slightly, sitting down, "It was District Seven. She and that little girl teamed up. Killed Carla and Beau…Still don't know who else they got before we turned up."

"That explains the axe," I pointed out, nibbling on the crummy sandwiches we constructed for our lunch.

"Yeah…Gotta hand it to that girl- Aspen- she's handy with an axe," Ditie commented.

"…What happened to the little girl?" Quip ventured, breaking the slowly developing silence.

Ditie's eyes seemed to glow faintly in the fire. Her gaze may have seemed pondering and innocent to some, yet it seemed more dark and dangerous to me. I wish I hadn't ever gotten stuck in the Career Alliance, if I didn't, maybe I would be holed up somewhere safe. I want to be somewhere where I didn't have to worry about being murdered in my sleep; somewhere like home. Scarily, I found it harder and harder to remember the exact feel of the old wooden boards and the smell of burnt metal.

"I killed her," she replied, shrugging slightly, "One less person we need to get, right?"

As soon as the words left Ditie's mouth, another cannon fired off; no doubt that it was Emily Summer's. The poor girl must have endured a long and painful death, one that she didn't deserve at all. We all watched as the hovercrafts descended into the forest, which I noted was now covered in frost. Before long, it would be a full blown winter wonderland, providing shelter no longer for those without blankets. Somehow, it made the image of the lithe little Aspen, springing from tree to tree with her axe, seem even more dangerous.

Oddly enough, Caine didn't reemerge from his tent the entire day. No one seemed to want to disturb him, the three of us merely sitting around the campfire. It was pretty quiet, no more cannon's firing off after the little bloodbath early this morning. Quip believed that Jade had been killed by Aspen and Emily, and that we shouldn't bother to wait for her. He had even divvied up her weapons and supplies, though carefully leaving them in her tent in case she returned. It was a smart move on his part, since I believe she wouldn't hesitate to skewer him if she ever found out.

Ditie and I talked a bit, actually exchanging information about our families. She grew up in District One, obviously, and was the oldest child in her family. The cousin of her mother's brother's best friend's aunt was a Victor, something that inspired her to want to train for the games. Even though she trained, she never actually wanted to go to the arena, since she loved her little brother dearly. Purposefully, I tuned her out ever so slightly as she carried on, not wanting to grow close to this girl. The worst thing I could do in this situation was to care about someone that would have to die.

To Quip's dismay, Jade returned at dusk, her hair matted and dripping with water. She refused to speak with us, insisting on ushering all of us into our tents. Only when the Capitol anthem sounded did she allow us to go out, yet not a single second sooner. I found this behavior odd and peculiar; though I was too busy staring up at the sky.

Naturally, Beau's face was the first to be shown from the sky, something that I noticed bothered Ditie a bit after stealing a quick glance at her. What none of us, except for Jade, expected was to see Amy Ivers' looking down at us. Had Jade been the one to do it? Or had she too be cut down by Aspen, or the Terrible Two as Quip called them? Almost too quickly, Carla's bubbly blonde hair appeared next, her makeup not smudged in the slightest in this image. Still, I could remember her deeply kissing another fallen Tribute, feeling the slightest tinge of jealousy.

"Blondie's down," Caine piped with a laugh, "serves her right!"

Sweet and innocent even in death; Emily Summers was the last person to appear in the sky this night. For some reason, all of us remained quiet, the silence almost seeming mournful. I doubted this, reminding myself that these were the Careers; the killers of the Hunger Games. They would never change, always staying this way with such terminity.

"That leaves…," Quip paused, "Ten to go. Thirteen already down."

"And only at the end of our second day," Ditie said approvingly, "Good job."

"What's that average, Smith?" Caine barked.

Calculating, I answered, "Roughly seven Tributes per day. Which means we only have about two more days in the arena if we keep up the pace."

How wrong I was.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

_Cold and weary. Lost and tired. Uncaring and hopeless. She trudged on, ignoring the plight as best as she could. It had only been one night, the sky not yet light up, yet she knew she would spend many, many more here. The start of her journey was barely remembered, the countdown long forgotten, and the blood on her hands washed off but not faded. This was the plight of the lost girl, far away from the only home she had ever known…_

Today, the others elected that Quip and I go out to do the Tribute hunting. All of them were positive that we had received a fairly easy bunch, and they should, quote, "rest up for the feast…not that we need it." So, the two of us grabbed some weapons, I getting more and more familiar with my throwing stars. I'd practiced with them the other day, since there didn't seem to be quite anything to do. Quip didn't seem to particularly care what weapon he took, grabbing a few knives and a spear for good measure. When Caine saw he was taking his favorite one, the one with the gold tip, he made him swear to bring it back in good condition. Of course, that meant that the blood of any Tribute had to be cleaned off of the spear properly and thoroughly.

We trudged through the city, peering inside the windows and occasionally entering the buildings. However, everything we found was scare and in horrible condition; it wouldn't be of much use for us. Still, Quip insisted on adding the broken nails, mauled hairbrush, and feeble compass with us. He either knew some sort of use for them, or he felt safer with more supplies on hand.

"Let's go upstairs," Quip suggested, "The better stuff is probably higher up…and the hiding spots for Tributes."

I glanced at him, "You don't sound too sure about that."

In the drag concrete building, he didn't seem as confident as before. Quip looked paler that usually, washed out even. His damp curly hair hung in his eyes, perfectly hiding them from view, with the exception of when he brushed them aside. I wondered if he was sick, which was never a good sign in the Games, yet he carried himself as if he was healthy. Either way, it gave me a funny feeling in my stomach that I wouldn't see him around too much longer.

"Look, it's a strategic position! We want to attain the high ground! Everyone knows that," he replied rudely, rolling his eyes a bit at the end.

Sighing a bit, I allowed him to walk up the stairs. I carefully glanced around, taking in note of each and every feature, though what I didn't notice that the door was now closed. When we went inside the building, we had left it open, in case one of us were to be separated. If only I had remembered, what happened next could have been avoided.

Trudging up the stairs, neither of us really talked to one another. A content silence grew, more and more, until it felt rude to even talk to one another. It didn't really matter that much to us; in the Games, friendliness would only be a weakness. I reluctantly resigned to that matter, not getting the chance to unravel the mysteries behind this peculiar boy. Knowledge came with a price, especially here. If anyone thought otherwise, they'd only need to see what I see. They'd then see the blood stained walls, horrifically looking fresh to the naked eye. Others could peacefully wonder what happened here, and even take a vacation to this very spot to participate in a reenactment. I absolutely hated that each year; dozens upon dozens of people would reenact my sister's death, even having the nerve to portray her. What I dreaded, possibly despised, even more was that in less than a year's time, people may be doing the very same thing for me.

When we reached the top of the building, a hatch allowed us access to the roof. Without saying anything, each of us climbed out and gazed around us. It was exhilarating, being up this high, being able to see the entire arena. The vast sea, a deep blue color, thrashed and turned like one might on a sleepless night. I didn't even have to squint to see the tiny tropical oasis, no doubt serving as a shelter for Amy. I pondered why she would have left, since she was killed just last night; I may never know. I bet Jade knew though, I realized, recalling how she came back to camp smelling of salt water and sea breeze. Hopefully she'd survive this day; our odds weren't looking all too good, our original eight dwindling down to five on the third day.

"It seems so big…," Quip started, "We're tiny, Caitlyn. We're so tiny."

Glancing at each other, his brown eyes had a strange intensity to them that I had never seen before. This time, he didn't seem sickly at all, standing strong and bold. The weight of the world looked like it was on his shoulders, which I knew better than to assume that it wasn't. If either of us made one wrong move, it could cost us our lives. Tenderly, I touched the wound in my stomach, sighing slightly as a tiny bit of the sticky red substance left traces on my fingers. It wouldn't be too long until I bled to death; I was extremely lucky Jade had been able to slow down the bleeding, if not stop it completely.

"If we die here, we die here. If we die out there, we die out there. It doesn't matter one bit when and where we die. And we all know it," he paused, "Don't look like that! One of these days, the plant will have a meltdown. Someone will wire red to blue instead of red to red. It'll happen, and we won't know its coming. We're all mortal. We're all going to die…I don't care anymore. I never did and I never will…."

I found myself gasping slightly, yet not for the reason Quip thought. He adverted his gaze, now looking out at the nearly endless ocean. If only I knew where in the world we were, I thought, even though I knew very well that it wouldn't matter. We were lucky that the nights were all right and the days were fair weather; in other years, Tributes had died from overheating and the opposite. So far, the biggest challenge we've had this Games was finding a source of water. Among the Cornucopia pickings, there wasn't anything to purify the saltwater with, and I vaguely remembered that boiling it might make it okay. Yet I also had reasons as to why it wouldn't work out. In the end, we decided we'd only try that as a last resort, and hope that we'd find a lake or pond somewhere soon.

"We're tiny, Caitlyn. I can see the whole world and we are puny…," his eyes were brown, "We're like cockroaches, spiders, or flies…We only exist for their use. And then when they're done with us…they kill us! We aren't going home! Not ever!" they were the same color of my father's, "Not! Ever! We're just ants! Puny, tiny, little playthings!"

And that's when the complete unexpected happened. One moment, Quip was standing next to me. He was hunched over, seething with anger, and I knew her must have been seeing red. If anyone tried to attack him right now, it'd be their undoing. Truly, this must have been why the Careers allowed him to join their alliance. It still didn't answer the question as to why I was allowed in, but I pushed that out of mind now. He wasn't Quip Colkdin anymore; he hadn't been for a while. Quip Colkdin died at home, he died in District Three; the person here wasn't Quip. That person was a Career Tribute, one who would do anything he had to do to survive, until he finally decided that enough was enough.

A small girl, her ginger hair catching the almost nonexistent sunlight, appeared from the hatch. Looking around, her bright blue eyes met my brown eyes, narrowing slightly. Disappearing back into the building, Quip didn't notice the lithe little thirteen year old until it was too late. She came back with a dagger, throwing it at my District Partner. Stumbling, it was lodged in his shoulder, his glasses flying off so he had no idea where and what he was looking at.

He fell off of the building.

"QUIP!" I cried, running towards the edge in a desperate attempt to grab him.

Alas, my efforts were near futile. He plummeted like a stone, hitting the ground with a sickening crack. I could already tell that he was bleeding, and logic told me that his injuries were worse than mine. Panicking, I turned around just into to here the knife sail right past my head, actually cutting off a bit of my blonde hair. I would have minded a little bit, if I wasn't too freaked out and deathly frightened for my life. The girl threw another knife at me, giving me almost no time to gather my wits or to even remember the name of my opponent.

Reacting by reflex, I ducked, maneuvering myself as far away from the edge as possible. I didn't want to end up like Quip, whom I thankfully reminded myself wasn't dead; we would have heard a cannon by now if he was. In a split second, I was able to tell that the girl, Lily, I finally remembered, had only three more lives. That meant she could try to kill me three more times before she'd have to use another technique; I wasn't all too sure if that was in my favor or not.

"So…You're what's passed off as a Career these days," Lily said mockingly, "Big whoop."

Raising an eyebrow, I flicked my wrist, sending three throwing stars at the red haired girl from District Five. All of them hit, yet it didn't seem to faze her at all. After some quick analysis, I discovered I was off on my mark, just striking where it would hurt, but wouldn't cause her to bleed to death. In retaliation, she sent another one of her knives at me, nicking my already wounded arm. I won't deny that it hurt, yet I also won't admit to whimpering a bit as the cut from before was reopened.

"…I'm Caitlyn Smith from District Three," I told her, "I'm just as much of a person as you."

Lily seemed a bit surprised, taking a hesitant step backwards. Fortunately and unfortunately, I took this to my advantage, this time successfully hitting her with a throwing star. She bent over slightly, blood spewing out as I charged at her, snatching up the fallen knife from the ground. I looked right into her eyes, feeling as if I could see her very light dim and her aura fade as I drove the blade through her stomach. After what felt like ages, she dropped to the ground, pale and covered in the color red, the timing of it in perfect sync with her cannon.

I fell to my knees, cradling the dead body of the girl in my arms. She didn't deserve to die, no one did. Wishing I could pay my respects, I mumbled a silent pray for her to be at peace and gently closed her eyes. Her ginger hair was slipping out of its braid, and I figured the people of District Five might actually prefer that I'd fix it. At least it might not be some Capitol worker who treated the body; a fellow Tribute seemed more appropriate. Finally, I gently laid her down on the concrete, quietly climbing down the hatch and back inside the building, as if I'd disturb her spirit.

_ "Tell me Lily, what's your opinion of the Capitol?"_

_ "For someone who is going to kill us, you could have done a h*** of a better job!"_

_ "…What's your family like?"_

_ "It's quite large...My father is a bit of a hero, same with my aunt and uncle…We're all very close."_

_ "Mind telling us what they said when you were reaped?"_

_ "They told me they loved me…And they'd burry me in white roses."_

When I reached Quip, it was clear to me that he'd die soon. All of his limbs were jutting out at odd angles and he was sporting a nasty gash on the head. By the positioning of his left hand, I deduced that he had tried to roll into a ball as he fell. Luckily, it managed to save his life, yet it only left him in what must have been withering agony. I kneeled down next to him, mixing in his blood with Lily's blood and my own. My shirt turned the darkest black possible, something that would have seemed sickening before. All I cared about right now was wherever this boy would live or die. It didn't matter if he was crazy, bipolar, rich, poor, sweet, or weird; he was my District Partner. The one person that would have to be taken away from me, and only now had I realized that I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to say goodbye to him.

"C-Cait…Lyn…," he muttered, "Are w-we dead?"

Brushing away a few tears, though really only smearing blood on my face, I answered, "No…At least not yet…"

He let out a sputtering cough, more of the thick red substance emerging from him, "W-Would ya look at that…"

Quip was grinning oddly, making me worry that he had finally crossed the line into insanity. Of course, I'd never know if he had or had not. I never really knew Quip Colkdin, I just knew the District Three male in the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games in the, supposed, fair county of Panem. Those two people were most likely extremely different, as I knew that I wouldn't have dreamt of killing, yet I could now feel the blood I was covered in. Somewhere, someplace, someone was grieving because of what I did, because of what I had to do to survive. I just hoped that they wouldn't always hate me, and that I'd make it out of this nightmare alive. If their love ones had to die from my hands, let it not of been in vain. Let one of us live, let one of us return and rise again!

I felt his head shift in my lap, a malevolent laugh spraying me in a fine coat of his blood once more. I'd never seen this much red in my lifetime, and I hoped that I wouldn't ever have to again. Either way, there was a good chance that I wouldn't have to. If I was dead, well, I'd get to relax in a peaceful afterlife. If I was the Victor, I could just close my eyes during the future Hunger Games' and refuse to be a Mentor; it was that easy.

"…I-I am puny…You are p-puny…," Quip stuttered, breaking into a smirk, "We all are p-puny…"


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

_Today was the day, she thought when she awoke, the day when I'd live or I'd die. Pulling herself out of bed, she brushed off the aid of the Avox, content with dressing herself. She knew very well this may be the last time she ever got a chance to, a chance to do something normal. The journey to what would surely be her doom was long and suspenseful. Upon arrival, they drew her hair back, making her ready for battle. As the countdown start, she deepened into a crouch. She wasn't an innocent one anymore; she was a predator…_

I would have liked to say there was a grave, remorseful, and dejected atmosphere at the Career Camp. I would like to have been able to say that people grieved, horrified at what had happened only three days ago. I would like to have been able to say that we didn't hunt for Tributes anymore, to not feel the will to do it. I would like to say that it didn't happen, that everything was as normal as could be. But I couldn't say that, I could only pretend; you didn't get what you liked in the arena.

After seeing Quip and Lily up in the sky, no more faces appeared. The remaining Tributes kept their wits about them, knowing how close they were to making it into the final four. There were only nine of us left in the arena, something that made me curious as to when the Career alliance would split up. Not that mattered though, I had my own plan already set in stone. Today, when we left separately for Tribute hunting, I would venture off somewhere where they couldn't find me, and simply not come back. Of course, the only problem with that would be finding a source of water. Scarily, almost all of the water bottles had been drunk, and Caine accidently smashed the one purifier that we had received. Unless the frost turned to snow, or we found the mythical oasis the wolves did, most of us wouldn't be killed by each other, but by dehydration.

"Ditie, you up for the forest today?" Caine asked, glancing at the dense woods.

Ditie nodded, rolling her eyes slightly as if she had been insulted. Normally, that would have been the case, yet the threat of District Seven was a thick mist, sweeping through the forest and leaving us unaware. No one had dared to set foot in there since Beau died, leaving us still without a water source. If we didn't find one soon, I reminded myself again, it could very well be fatal, and prove an anticlimactic end to this year's Hunger Games. Certainly, the Gamemakers would supply us with something before then? The feast was probably our answer and we would need each one of us to be battle ready.

Standing to her feet easily, the girl from District One disappeared into the forest, her form quickly swallowed up by the fog. I could almost hear her teeth chattering from here, yet none of us said anything about it. If a Career showed the slightest sign of weakness, they were almost instantly killed; we didn't need dead weight. That left Caine, Jade, and I sitting around the campfire, something that I noted we rarely put out. No one in their right mind would attack us, even if they outnumbered us; it was plain common sense that we all knew from years of watching the Hunger Games.

"Smith, you've got the mountains. Jade, the city. I'll go and see if I can go tame that tsunami waiting to happen," Caine commanded, picking up the least bloodied spear.

Neither of us argued with him, knowing far better than to. I couldn't help but wonder if Hugo, the younger brother of Lily, was hiding out in the city at this very moment. Remorsefully, I couldn't find very much reason as to why that wouldn't be the case. Jade looked hardest, swinging her weatherworn bag over her shoulder, heading out towards the city. As Caine and I watched, three of the buildings were blown up, spraying debris in virtually every direction. We had gotten used to it by now, the original seventy three buildings, the number to represent out games, now down to a dwindling twenty four. Jade continued to walk forward, no cannons going off to signify that someone had been inside of the three.

I was the last one to leave the Camp today, Caine making his way towards the sea. I doubted that anyone would be over there; still, the murder of Amy Ivers was still unexplained. It just didn't seem likely that little Emily and small little Aspen would have been able to trick the Career Tribute. Smiling slightly to myself, I made my way up the sloping hills towards the rocky mountain range. Caine would find out the answer to that mystery for sure today, and I'm not all too sure it'll turn out well for him.

Glancing up at the sky, it was laced with black storm clouds. As usual, thunder was rolling, a never ending drum located up in what used to be the bluest blue I'd ever known. I couldn't help but think of the nights back at home, when I was younger and the smallest spark of lightening scared me to death. Dad would hold me, stroking my hair as he rocked my gently. When…When Jenny was still there, she'd be there too, telling me stories from Mythology, about the Greek god Zeus. He seemed like a very silly and odd fellow to me, helping me get over my fear slightly, though not completely. Even now, I couldn't help but shiver slightly at the rumbling power from above.

"It was a dark and stormy night," I chuckled to myself, quoting one of my favorite books as I walked.

Thinking back through the events of the day, I reminded myself of how Jade refused to let me go anywhere for a while. Apparently, the wound on my stomach wasn't improving, only getting worse. The slight bloodstain on my sleeping bag was enough proof, yet I forced myself not to be worried. I'm certain I have sponsors, and that Kristor and Kayt would know to send me something if this proved to be bad enough…Right? Wouldn't that Alois fellow want to ensure that I survived? I hoped, prayed, and willed that the answer to each of those questions were yes, pushing away the niggling doubt in my mind.

One of the things I've noticed so far is that time seems to pass oddly here in the arena. Originally, I had expected time to seem to move slowly, since I'm quite focused here. Yet it seemed to do the exact opposite, passing incredibly quickly, leaving me feeling a bit dazed as the Capitol anthem began to play. Looking behind me, I realized I had only just reached halfway up this massive giant of a mountain, not even near the highest cave. There wasn't a message of a feast, or a promise of something spectacular occurring soon. I found this odd, knowing that this was now the third night in a row that no one had been killed in the Games. In the mind of the Capitol, this was much too boring, since they tended to draw out the Hunger Games festivities and such, so much that it last almost the entire year. They had to have something planned; hopefully, it wouldn't involve them sending in any type of mutant creatures.

Climbing up the last ledge, I was thankful for the grips on my gloves. It was difficult enough to climb in normal weather, yet in a thunderstorm, it felt like a highly idiotic idea. Still, I needed to put as much distance between the Careers and I as possible. If I were to easily be accessed by them, the now profusely bleeding stomach wound wouldn't be the thing to take me it; it would be my former allies. I hated this, all of it, but especially the injury. Constantly I thought about how I wouldn't be hindered by it if I never went into the forest with Beau. Despite my efforts not to, it only gave me a hollow and melancholy feeling, filling me with chagrin.

Pebbles scattered left and right, curiously a few of them a good couple meters away from me. Creeping forward, I found it highly ironic that I would be the one to find all of the Tributes. Couldn't one of the other Careers find someone every once and a while? Clearly, the answer must have been no, since all evidence revealed that I was better than them. Maybe, just maybe, it had to do with…Nah, it was a silly thought. Right now, I had no time to dwell on things such as that.

I crept forward into the cave, the knife I had taken from the Cornucopia in hand. For some reason, I had this intuition that throwing stars wouldn't be the best idea. Especially here, in the deep and dark cave, lightning illuminating the place about each five seconds or less. Strangely, growling sounds seemed to be coming from the inside of the cave. Walking farther in, I wondered if any of the Tributes had lost their sanity. Hopefully, we wouldn't get another Titus in this year's Games; it wouldn't help my odds of survival one bit.

The snarling grew louder, a slight echo increasing the difficultly to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. Worry started to grow like a weed that you just can't remove from your garden as much as you try. I was barely able to suppress it, tentatively reaching into my pack to retrieve a flashlight. Clicking the button, I mumbled a curse. Everything in this cave seemed to be all too quiet for someplace that noise travels and bounces so easily. If someone was inside this cave, they would know for sure now that I was here, and prepare to attack.

A shadow moved, the legs looking long and rough, "Who's there?" I shouted, figuring that they had spotted me.

No one replied, yet they continued their advancement out of the dark.

"I said," my tone grew stronger, and I wrapped my fingers around my blade, "Who's there?"

The Tribute snarled, luminous green eyes now visible out of the darkness. Frantically, I ran through all of the Tributes and tried to figure out who had eyes like that. Perhaps Arissa Warner had been the one to go feral? Her eyes, I remember, were more of a golden color each time I had seen her. It was quite peculiar, so maybe her stylist had given her contacts for that? I didn't know. At least, this thought was more comforting, knowing who my attacker most likely was.

Before I knew what was happening, the Tribute sprang out of the darkness. I had but a second to take in each detail, each feature. They had brown fur, green eyes, sharp fang like teeth, and claws, dripping red with blood. Thrusting my knife deep into its stomach, slightly mimicking my own wound, it fell to the ground. Panting a bit, I reached down and pulled out my blade, watching the bright green eyes fade into a dull green. In my panic, I didn't realize that it wasn't a Tribute, but a wolf.

Bending down, I hesitantly stroked the fur of the dead animal. Surprisingly, it was a very calming motion. My breathing slowed down, now mirroring the way it had been before I had entered this cave. Standing up once more, I glanced outside of the cave and saw that the rain had lessened slightly. I knew that I ought to go, in case this wolf belonged to a pack, which surely wouldn't like me all too much right now. A camera must have been on my right about now, and without even thinking what I was doing, I turned in the general direction that I thought it was.

"Dad, I'm okay," I said, "I'm coming home and I love you."

I could picture him right now, smiling a bit to himself as he saw me. Focusing in on that vision, I could almost smell the familiar scents of home, touch the same rough wooden walls, and taste the metallic tinge to the air. It made me feel safe, and it calmed me even quicker then stroking the wolf had done. Yet as all good things must end, even this did too. My father and my quaint little home were whisked away by the sound of a cannon, which luckily wasn't my own.

Running outside of the cave, the storm suddenly increased again, causing me to note that this must have been the Gamemakers doing. From up here, I could look down on the entire arena, provided that my soaking wet hair didn't whip in my face from the wind. Squinting slightly, I could just make out the sleek disappearing hovercraft residing above the dense forest. Aspen and Ditie had been in there; I didn't know about anyone else. Logically, I would say that Aspen had been the one to fall, yet I would easily believe it being Ditie. Aspen had taken out Carla, Beau, and possibly Amy as well; Ditie wasn't that much better than all of them. I resigned to finding out late tomorrow night, when the Capitol anthem would play again, and a face would light up the sky once more.

Glancing quickly, I found a treacherous yet manageable path to my left. Most likely, there would be a cave at the end of it, far away from the now blood stained one behind me. I began to climb it, my teeth chattering and each part of my body feeling like they were turning to ice. If I stopped for just one moment, I would surely fall to my death, just like Quip had done just a few days earlier. Scrambling up it, I gasped slightly as a stone jutted against my stomach, worsening the wound. I barely managed to crawl my way into a cave, taking shelter from the wicked storm outside.

Cameras must have been zooming in on me right now, letting the Capitol see me. They must have seen a Career Tribute, ditching the pack against all odds. Caesar Flickerman must have been discussing right now the pros and cons of my decision. My sponsors would have been recalculating my odds, perhaps yelling at my Mentors to get me what I needed to live. Strangely, when I closed my eyes I saw someone I had never seen before.

There stood a young boy, his blonde hair as pale as snow, his eyes as striking at the lightning I've become accustomed to. He wore a long purple cloak, jutting up at the top like Dad described Count Dracula's did. His skin, somehow, was paler than his hair, contrasting with the black terror that stood behind him. I couldn't see the eyes of the other person, obscured by a strange pair of glasses that glinted golden. The boy smirked at me, and his image disappeared, replaced by the reality of the arena.

I lifted up my chin, trying to look strong despite the heavy blood flow. I knew that if I didn't get something from a sponsor soon, I'd die before I could see who the cannon from earlier had belonged to. I didn't want to die; I wanted to go home. Quip had already gone home, cleaned up and shipped back to his family in District Three. Oddly, I felt somewhat jealous of him, for he got to return before I did. Of course, I wanted to return still kicking, not unmoving and lifeless in a dark oak box.

"_We all are p-puny…"_

Reaching into my bag, I retrieved my bandages and tried my best to rewrap my wound. Part of me knew it would only slow it down, since the wound was far too deep. It would require stitches, if not surgery, and I wasn't all too confident if I could do it myself. Still, it would be nice if Kristor and Kayt would think to send something to us, I mean, to me. There wasn't an 'us' anymore. I was all alone in this arena of death and destruction, with no one to aid me. For a minute, I regretted breaking off from the alliance, yet I knew I had done what was right. Quip had bought me time; I had to use it wisely.

"Kristor…K-Kayt," I gasped slightly, clutching my stomach, "You better not be holding out on me…Or so help me…"

In my head, Kayt let out a slight giggle and Kristor wiggled his eyebrows. I let out a snort, finding the image highly comical yet realistic. It was quite easy to imagine it, so much so that I almost didn't notice the small white parachute come down from above. Eyes widening with delight, I tore it open as fast as I could, finding a sturdy thread and a needle, along with everything else I needed to patch myself up. Smiling slightly, I was quite thankful for all the long and tedious hours I spent doing the wiring back at home. Before too long, the wound was all closed up, yet I wrapped it up in the bandage still to be careful.

As I positioned myself against a rock, I guzzled down the last bit of water from my bottle, closing my eyes as I began to enter a dreamless sleep.

"Thank you…" I murmured, "thank you…"


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

_The man who recorded her true final words sat there. Everyone loved her, clapping and cheering for the white haired girl. Carefree, strong, innocent, and courageous; this was the person they wanted for a Victor. She stood out among the girls, refusing to wear a dress, instead showing up in a tuxedo. They only loved her more, she found them ironic however, and smiled only for those at home…_

I woke up to the blaring Capitol anthem, being jolted from the slumber I had spent most of the day in. Upon realizing how much warmer it was during the day in the mountains, becoming nocturnal seemed like it would be a good idea. If I wanted a sleeping bag or cozy shelter, I'd have to risk my life by rejoining the Careers. Hopefully, they haven't realized that I split off from them just yet, merely assuming that I was taking my time on my Tribute hunt.

Scrambling up, I hesitantly walked outside, feeling relieved when the crude job of stitching I had done held up. The Capitol seal was there, soon vanishing as the viewers all around view full footage of the deaths. It must have been a long and drawn out scene, since I spent a good five minutes waiting for the faces to appear in the sky. To my surprise, I saw the beauty of District One looking down at me, Ditie's eyes seeming bored and uninterested in everything. Had Aspen killed her too? If she did, I thanked my lucky stars that I had escaped the now menacing girl from District Seven.

I leaned again the cave wall, expecting the Capitol seal to reappear, yet it didn't. Instead, the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith engulfed the entire arena, speaking clearly and loudly as if he was right next to me. Jumping slightly, I turned to make sure that wasn't the case, giggling a bit at my own paranoia. Listening as carefully as I could, the news my former allies had been waiting for finally arrived.

"Tributes of the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games!" Claudius announced, "Tomorrow, we shall have a great feast prepared for you! Each of you is in need…Each of you is looking…Wait no longer. Turn up to the Cornucopia, and it will all be yours!"

The anthem played once more, the stars now being the only thing visible in the dark night sky. I knew for sure there would be something to help getting water, or at least more of it at the Cornucopia. I needed that water to survive, and Caine and Jade would be sure to kill me there if I wasn't still their ally. That's when I made my decision, grabbing my pack once more and climbing back the way I had come. Since Ditie truly was dead, they might not have known what happened to her. A plan began formulating in my mind, one to trick them into believing that I had never actually ditched them in the first place.

Walking outside, that's when I heard the whispering once more.

_ "What if she sees us, Tex?"_

"_Be quiet, Kitty!"_

These voices sounded identical to those two. I knew exactly who was near me; Kitty Ridyne and Tex Gromlin. It wasn't usual for people from different Districts to team up, with the exception of the Career pack. Whatever they were discussing, it most likely had to do with the feast. I couldn't be all too sure, since I wasn't close enough to make out exact words, just tiny little phrases, most of them meaningless and out of context. Pulling out my weapon of choice, I approached carefully, my parched mouth reminding me of my desperate thirst. They'd have water, right? They'd been able to survive long enough, so it would only make sense for them to have it on hand.

Both of them looked weathered, Kitty's hair matted, and singed from flames. I must have missed that part whilst I slept, something I'm very glad for. I don't think anyone died though, as Ditie was the only person in the sky. Barely, I could hear Ditie yelling at us that we said her name incorrectly; it made me shed a small tear. Never before did I think I would be sad for the death of a Career, yet I now was. I couldn't help but wonder how Aspen had done it…Whatever she had done, it must have kept the Capitol audience nice and happy, with no accusations of boredom.

Tex was bleeding profusely, grasping a spear in his hand. With a small chuckle, I realized that it used to belong to Caine, no doubt annoying the strong boy from District Two. Half of his hair was gone, confirming my theory that the Gamemakers had burnt the two Tributes for the Capitol's amusement. The thought had made me feel queasy, yet now knowing it was reality, it made me feel horrified. I had to remind myself that this was the Hunger Games; people weren't going to be kind and caring.

"So, the feast, what's our plan?" Kitty asked, pulling out a bottle of water.

Even if they couldn't see me spying on them, I felt incredibly jealous of the girl from District Twelve. She had an ally that she could rely on, one that she really didn't need to worry about betraying. And she had a bottle of fresh, pure water; most likely, it came with a water source as well. Kitty didn't even know it, but she was practically taunting me. In the back of my mind, a little voice was egging me on, telling me to kill the two Tributes and take their water. That was the voice of a Career, and it scared me majorly, causing me to promptly ignore it, and pretend it never even existed.

Tex eyed her conspiratorially, "That's for me to know and y'all to never find out."

She huffed, "Don't play games with me!"

Her ally turned around, wiping the blood off of his lip. His clothing which used to be in such great shape had been reduced to rags, covered in grime and sweat. I couldn't tell what color Tex's skin was anymore, though my memories told me that it must have been tan. He lifted up his spear, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was preparing to kill Kitty Ridyne. Kitty must have thought that too, picking up her weapon, though making it look like she was just grabbing it.

"Oh, I'm done playing games with y'all…," Tex informed, "In fact, I reckon that y'all like this there game real good."

Kitty rolled her eyes, "You know, my brother would rip you to pieces right now."

"Carter?" Tex asked, "Reckon he's just a big wimp."

"Take. That. Back," Kitty growled.

Tex cocked his head, smirking slightly as he mouthed the word we all hate to hear. Kitty snarled at him, starting to walk away from what I assumed was now her former ally. Every screen across the nation of Panem would be showing them right now, and I bet that their sponsors were holding their breath. Half of the time when an alliance is broken, it's because of the members was killed. And most likely, it was because the other one had done the deed. From the way Tex was talking, it seemed like that was the way he wanted to end this alliance. Kitty, however, seemed pretty riled up from him insulting her brother.

"Y'all gonna make me?" he asked.

What happened next was forever burned into my mind. Tex threw his spear at Kitty, the later ducking her head slightly, causing it to sail gracefully over. It became impaled in a rock cropping, most likely because Tex wasn't all too talented with the spear. Kitty rolled her eyes at him, muttered something foul, and charged forward a bit, slashing her knife. Tex gained a few new wounds, yet he remained standing, even if he wobbled slightly. Kitty stared at him, her intelligent eyes looking him over. With a maniac grin, he pounced on her, knocking her to the ground, gaining a surprised yelp.

I carefully stepped backwards, knowing that everyone in the Capitol thought that I'd jump in on this melee. Not yet, I decided, I'd wait until it was clear that one of them needed an advantage. No port of me felt like aiding Tex, even though he did, slightly, the same exact thing I had done. I'd help Kitty, but I wouldn't help him; that's just how things were going to go. It didn't make me a monster in anyway, since I'm sure that Jenny would have done the same…Right?

Tex hovered over her, sitting in what the training instructors had called mount position. He rained down punch after punch, which surprisingly only half of them actually hit Kitty's face. Nasty bruises were already beginning to form; her eyes squinted from concentration as she jammed her knee into him. Tex hollered as she rolled him over, this time being the one in control of the brawl. Back at home, some of the boys, along with a couple girls, would have been snickering right about now. They thought it implied things when Tributes thought like this, yet I bet they would have been just like Kitty and Tex if they were in the arena. Somehow, those people never did end up getting reaped, allowing the gene of gutlessness to survive over the ages, prospering over the brave.

"I hate you," Kitty muttered, stabbing her knife into his shoulder and leaving it there, twisting it slightly to cause him even more pain, "I trusted you!"

An anguished cry pierced the air, Tex futilely trying to get Kitty off of him. It's not use though, she's sitting far too high up his body for him to do so, his legs pinned to the ground as well. Kitty's expressionless now, swinging down a total of twelve punches; I realize it's her District number. With a crack, Tex's nose is broken, another thing to add to his list of numerous injuries. Still, I continued to watch as he shrieked, and as she glared down at him for trying to kill her. Part of me wanted to do something, to break them apart. When I turned around, no longer being able to see them, I could only hear the panicked voice of Tex. The Capitol people had loved his accent, cheered for it, yet now, now they were cheering for his death. I began to walk away, ever so quietly as to not disturb either of the two Tributes.

"M-M-Mercy…M-Mercy!" I heard Tex cry, a slightly strangled sound coming from his throat.

There was a slight pause, the pitter-patter of rain starting up ever so slightly. I wasn't quite sure if it was the Gamemakers creation, or if Mother Nature had decided to work in the Capitol's favor today. Most likely, it was the first of the two options. Whenever an alliance ended like this, the rain made it seemingly more dramatic, and gave each Tribute the appearance of crying in sorrow. I forced myself to not look back, to not see what was about to happen here.

I kept on walking, furious at myself for straining my ears to hear what would happen. The rain fell louder now, thankfully, it made it nearly impossible to know what was happening between the struggling Tributes. Deep down, I knew that it wasn't very likely that Tex Gromlin would win, and soon there would only be seven of us left in the arena. Seven Tributes; comprised of five girls and two males. Normally, it's the complete opposite, since most males have more upper body strength than us females do.

Counting the minutes, the cannon finally went off. Tex Gromlin was most likely dead, murdered by his own victim. How odd that seemed, if it would have been anywhere but here that is. We're each other's victims and each other's murderers. Only one of us would have the privilege of leaving this place, and hopefully, I'd be able to leave tomorrow. I hadn't yet lost track of time, and if I thought correctly, this Hunger Games was now down to seven Tributes in only a week. Not too bad, I thought, yet not long enough to satisfy the eager Capitol audience.

Biting my lip, I looked behind me, ignoring all self-control I thought I had, just in time to see the hovercraft swoop down. It was like a bird of prey, glistening white, and its talons reaching out for the dead Tribute. Tenderly, a figure was picked up, the trail of blood still dripping down from midair. It's then that I realize it was most certainly Tex Gromlin, leaving Kitty Ridyne all by herself and slightly injured. The last fight I had the luxury to watch must have been Brine and Jade's, this one eerily similar to it. Brine in the place was Kitty, Jade was Tex, and I was Caine. Only this time, I didn't come out and help the tables turn.

"Tex is dead," I whispered, "He's dead. I don't care. He's dead. Quip is dead. He's dead. I-I…I…"

"_Jenny is dead. Jenny is dead. Jenny is dead. Jenny Smith died at 2:02 AM. Jenny is dead. Jenny is dead."_

Tears slid down my cheeks, hot and cold at the same time, blurring my vision. I stumbled everywhere, falling constantly until I found only a cushion of air beneath me. I didn't care anymore, those hated words pounding into my skull. It wasn't that I didn't care; I cared all too much. I wasn't cut out for the Hunger Games. I was just Caitlyn Smith, just a girl from District Three. All I did was do the wiring back home! Nothing more! I wasn't anything special….Yet…I wasn't puny. I couldn't be puny, after all, I'm guaranteed to place at least seventh in the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games. No…That wasn't what made me special, was it? I couldn't remember exactly what it is, everything turning to a blur as my body hit icy water, causing me to gasp for breath.

Barely awake, I swam for what looked like a rock shore, collapsing on it as my body shivered and shook. In my nightmares, this is what Tracker Jacker's would have felt like, yet I was sure that there wasn't a single sting on my entire body. I hadn't even seen a Tracker Jacker this entire time, something that I found highly curious. Usually, the Capitol stuffs the arena full of their mutant creatures, enjoying the shocked expressions of each Tribute who comes across their paths.

That strange boy appeared again, turning to the tall man in black beside him. I wasn't in the arena anymore, but in a curious house. He flashed a smirk at me, reaching down to help me up with his cold, pale hands. The man next to him nodded slightly at me, reaching down and probing my wound, which had somehow reopened. Lifting his now bloodstained fingers to his mouth, the man licked them clean, smiling down evilly at me.

"Who are you?" I spluttered out, "What do you want from me?"

The boy opened his mouth, as if he was going to reply, and then vanished into the mist. Shaking slightly, I curled into a ball and hugged myself. He wasn't real, I thought, he's never existed. I must have been going insane, something that I had always worried about happening to Jenny. Yet now, it was clear that I shouldn't have been worried about her, I should have been worried about me. Dad must have been feeling scared too, frightened that I'd come home like this. Then again, I thought, he would have been glad to have me come home no matter what. I smiled a bit to myself, closing my eyes as I breathed in the fresh air, the image of the boy and his butler, I assumed, appearing no longer.

It was only then that I realized why my clothes were soaking, finally recovering from my, well, I'm not all too sure what to call it. Anyways, I dug inside my surprisingly undamaged pack, pulling out the iodine drops and the water bottle. Filling it up and treating the water, I counted silently to myself until half an hour had past, the moon now high in the sky. Drinking, I found it hard to resist guzzling it all down, then repeating the process until I was properly, or to my own satisfaction, hydrated. The people at the training center might have frowned slightly, yet I highly doubted any of them had ever experienced anything ever like the Hunger Games. The best they could have done was travel to the sights and do the reenactments, which weren't really one; since they were taken care of expertly and tended to if they received the slightest scratch. I used to wish I had been born in the Capitol, because they got all the privileges, yet now, I found myself a bit grateful that I grew up in District Three; I didn't turn out pathetic like them.

"Tick tock, goes the clock…," I sang softly, staring up at the sky, "gently as he rocked her…"

Tick tock, goes my clock, till the morning of my death…


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

_Sheehan stood there, looking at the girl in black. She stared back, her eyes twinkling slightly as he circled her. Nodding his approval, he gave her a broad smile, wishing her luck for what was just to come. Her training had been great, earning quite the high score for someone from a District so overlooked. The cameras would be on her tonight, he was sure, just like they were before and ever since…_

It felt like minutes, yet the brightening sky told me that I rested on the beach for several hours. Examining myself, I found that I had been quite lucky in my fall, my stitches holding up despite what I had thought. With a shudder, I thought of the image with the strange boy and his butler again. After careful consideration, it became apparent that it was just a mere hallucination caused by my dehydration; any other points or ideas on the matter I quickly dismissed.

The feast at the Cornucopia would be starting soon, yet I made no movement to go to it. Part of me was curious to see what they had for me, but I knew that common sense dictated that I stayed here. This place was peaceful, sheltered, and provided a water supply which I may not have to fight over. Why should I leave here, and risk never finding it again? No thank you, I thought with a chuckle, I was perfectly fine right here.

Glancing upwards again, I figured that now would be a good time to bathe. My skin was caked in blood, sand, and plants; painting a picture that overall wasn't all too pretty. Stripping off my garments, I looked down at my body, a bit relived that my frame didn't resemble one of a corpse. That happened to some of the Tributes, though I supposed becoming a Career for a bit had its benefits. Instead, I was covered with bruises and gashes, my skin looking a bit paler than normal. Chuckling slightly, I couldn't help but wonder if I was being featured on the screen right now, though I honestly doubted I would be. The Capitol wanted to punish the Districts, not burn the image of my, well, nakedness into the mind of each of their own children.

As I jumped into the lake, the cool water splashed me, shocking myself to full awareness. Unlike the other day, I intentionally submerged myself, forcing myself into opening my eyes. I'd never really been in the water before, though Jenny used to take me to a little pond when we were little. It was eventually rendered unusable, with the construction of a water wheel to help power the new factory implemented. Though from what I remembered, it was a rather unpleasant sensation to look around underwater, yet it was worth it. Things may not have been crisp and clear, but you could almost see the slight ripples in the surface. Pebbles littered the floor, the murky waters distorting their color. Absently, I noted that this lake couldn't be more than forty miles deep, since light couldn't penetrate any farther than that.

Surfacing, my hair splayed out over my shoulders, making me yearn for soap to clean it properly. Alas, I hadn't even seen a single stick of the cleansing substance, even in the massive loot we had kept at the Cornucopia. I chuckled slightly, thinking that maybe that would be at the feast today; ten tons of soap and shampoo. Disturbingly, it was quite easy to picture.

Sliding my clothing back on, I heard the sound of padded feet hitting the dusty banks. At first, I assumed that it was Jade and Caine, out to slit my throat from discovering my betrayal. Yet this wasn't anything human; it was a pack of wolves. Each of them were massive, an odd red color, their teeth snapping with electricity. Gulping slightly, I stumbled backwards, knowing that I was facing the robotic creatures of the Capitol. The Gamemakers mustn't have liked my decision to avoid the feast, sending their machines after me to ensure a good show. There was no way I wanted them to bite me, fearing that sadly familiar pain of electrocution. So, I scooped up as much supplies as I could and ran towards the vast green hills.

Snarling and howling followed me, giving me no time to panic about where in the arena I was. Each hill and each cliff was just another challenge, another obstacle in my path towards safety. Initially, I had thought I would have been safe after climbing a rock wall, yet new wolves emerged from the bushes behind me. The teeth of one grazed my ankle, encouraging me to run even faster. Someone slower would have fallen to the wolves, which would have given the Capitol immense pleasure.

"_You're smarter than them, Caitlyn…Quicker too…That's all it is, right? Who's the smartest of them all…"_

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I tried to think of an easy solution to my situation. I was quickly approaching the Cornucopia, the shinning speck in the distance more visible each second. Curiously, the wolves chase didn't seem to lessen, despite that I was now doing what the Gamemakers had wanted me to do. Were they really that desperate for blood right now? Most of the time, they preferred to have the Tributes take down each other, letting them off the hook when it comes to doing the dirty work. And apparently, it makes for great television in the Capitol; I wouldn't know though, we all hated the Games in District Three.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I suppose, Caine and Jade saw me running towards them almost instantly. They shared a knowing look with each other, yet it faded as they observed what was chasing me towards the Cornucopia. That's when I realized it; the wolves weren't really here for me. Their purpose was to kill as many Tributes as possible and end the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games with ease. The District Two Tributes, however, didn't seem to realize that at all, their weapons posed to take out the threat.

"So that's what took you so long…," Jade mused, a slightly bored expression on her face.

Jerking my head slightly, painfully reminded myself of Kristor, I ducked to the side. Everything about my timing had to be perfect; otherwise the wolves would kill me as well. Just as I predicted, they swerved to the left, following me as I motioned for Caine and Jade to strike them down. The Careers followed suit, Caine throwing his spear, hitting the largest one in the back. It dropped to the ground dead as I sprinted into the forest, climbing up a tree as fast as I could.

The scent of pine caught my attention first, then the baying of the wolves. Holding as still as possible, they circled my tree like the predatory animals that they were. I didn't dare glance at Jade and Caine, to see if my plan had indeed succeeded or not. Even the Gamemakers should realize that dropping in a wolf on a tree with me is highly unrealistic, which would be frowned upon in the Capitol; they like the Hunger Games to be as real as possible. After what felt like a good five minutes, my heart rate lessened at the wolves stalked away, snarling slightly at their inability. It was then that I heard the screaming.

In the middle of the small area the Cornucopia rested at, the rest of the Tributes had assembled. Little Hugo from District Five, aiming a slingshot at the wild eyed girl from District Ten, looked nothing like the cheery person from the interview. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, as if he spent the last few days in the arena crying, mourning over his sister. Hugo had to have known this would happen, though I felt sorry for the red haired boy. I knew all too well what if felt like to lose a sibling to the Hunger Games, and he had to experience it first hand, and know that it would be coming.

Aspen stood on top of the Cornucopia, holding her small axe loosely in her hand. Jade stared her down, yelling viscous words that I couldn't quite make out. As always, Caine stood nearby, ready to jump in and assist in a moment's notice. By the way he was angled, he was most likely prepared to go and fight Kitty, whom was still covered in Tex's blood. If I was back at home watching this, I'd be waging the odds of Aspen and Hugo surviving, sighing slightly as I knew that it wasn't all too likely. Sure, the two of them may be able to take care of Arissa, yet Caine and Jade were there too.

Jumping down from the tree, I hit the ground with my knees braced. The wolves were gone by now, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw an odd shadow move. I quickly dismissed my paranoia, confident as I joined the Career Tributes back at the Cornucopia. The boy didn't seem all too surprised to see me back, giving a slight nod in my direction. However, Jade's eyes narrowed, looking me over.

"You still in?" Jade barked, doubting that I remained in the alliance.

Forcing myself to smirk slightly, I glanced at the girl Tribute, replying, "Of course."

Jade grinned sadistically before returning to her prey, circling slightly as the tense District Seven Tribute prepared to throw. I pulled out one of my trusting throwing stars, a pang of sadness when I realized I was down to only a couple. Soon, I'd have to get a small enough knife and hope that I have the same skills with that weapon. Of course, I could always ask Jade for a few pointers, provided that I trusted her enough to not kill me. But now, in the final seven, I didn't think any alliances at all would be continuing all too much longer. The same thing with the Games, I realized; right here, right now, I could be the Victor. Or I could be a loser, a victim, packed up and sent back home to District Three, just like Quip a few days earlier.

We all eyed each other, knowing that it would only take one move for all hell to break out. With the seven of us here, it would be another bloodbath, which is what the feasts are intended for. No doubt, each one of our families would be biting their nails, pacing, and not letting their stellar focus stray from the television screen. I tried to picture what their families might have looked like, yet all I could picture was my own. My small little family, consisting of just Dad, and the love that he gave me more than twenty people could ever dream of. The other Tributes didn't seem human anymore to me; more like obstacles in my way, which I guess they were, even though I hated that I thought that way.

Arissa huffed, "Look, if we stand around like a bunch of idiots they're going to send out more traps!"

She had a frost bitten look to her, and an obvious crack in her right arm. It made me wonder what had happened to her, and as I surveyed the others, I noticed something. We each had our own and distinct injuries, from something that I was positive weren't in this arena at the start. Theories came and went, seeming perfectly sane and reasonable one moment, to idiotic the next. If I was at home, I would have pulled out a precious piece of paper and used it all up, covering the ground in eraser shavings as I tried to work this seemingly elaborate scheme. Though, I couldn't do that now, for two reasons: I was over thinking it and this was the arena, which meant no paper to spare or use. Mentally, I yelled at myself for even bothering to think about things like this, trying to keep my thoughts from running astray once more.

"…She's right," Caine said, smirking slightly, "We should get a move on."

Jade nodded agreement, her eyes lighting up with pleasure. If someone else had seen her, out of context that is, she would have looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Even the way she carried herself seemed to radiate happiness, finding so much fun in the idea of killing children. Well, in the idea of killing us, since all of us were children here. Hugo and Aspen both seemed to back up a bit, the girl from District Seven skillfully staying on top of the Cornucopia. I remembered that she was the one that killed Ditie and warily observed her, hoping she wouldn't make another attempt on my life.

A grinding sound started, causing some of the younger Tributes to jump, the promised supplies finally arriving. There was an assortment of the oddest things, set out delicately on a silver table, though no one paid them any mind. We all knew that after this was over, there wouldn't be anyone else to bicker with over the supplies. Still, I couldn't help but try to pick out what was intended for me on that table, only seeing a small pouch with my District number written in bold print. Could it have been more throwing stars? Whatever it was, it still didn't change the conclusion we had all reached on the worthlessness of the items.

"Well then," Arissa stated, throwing her javelin at Hugo, "Let's get started."

Hugo's eyes widened with fear, stumbling as it pierced through his heart. Obviously, he hadn't been expecting Arissa to throw at him when he was so closed, since her weapon was better used for long distance. The light seemed to fade from his eyes, which I sadly noted were the same color of his sister's, and he fell to the ground. Arissa's javelin went all the way through, grotesquely, a rather important organ of the fallen Tribute speared to the end of it. Hugo's cannon fired off, causing an anguished cry to emerge from Aspen, the young girl promptly throwing an axe at Arissa.

Barely, the murderer of Hugo Gryffin dodged it, receiving a nick in the shoulder. This frustrated the young blonde even more, much to the amusement of Caine and Jade, causing her to scoop up another axe. She threw it again at Arissa, catching her in the thigh. The wild eyes widened in surprise, limping as she retrieved her javelin.

"It's not a proper feast without us, now is it?" Jade stated, smiling as she drew a knife and motioned for Caine and I to follow.

Another axe hit Arissa, this time embedded into her stomach, just as deep as when I received the same wound. Only this time, Arissa didn't have any allies to help her out; she only had enemies. Caine stepped forward, ready to strike her down with his own spear, when I surprised myself by stopping him.

"Don't," I ordered, "she's mine."

Anyone who knew me in my ordinary life would have been surprised, yet none of the Tributes here were. I stood in front of Arissa, thinking of all the people who died in the Hunger Games, but more specifically, of Lily and Hugo Gryffin. Both of the two were now dead and resting in the next world, yet I still felt guilt over killing the red haired girl. I guess, I felt like maybe by avenging Hugo for her, maybe I'd be able to right my wrong. Perhaps it would also help the families, giving them a sense of closure and hopefully one of justice. I wished those were my real reasons, and while they partially were, I couldn't help but think of Hugo and think of my own sister. I wasn't really doing this for them; I was doing this for Jenny.

The girl before me looked at me with pleading eyes, understanding that I had the capability. I tried not to look into them, preparing myself to throw the throwing star that would end her life. Gulping slightly, I allowed myself a quick peek and almost gasped, seeing the same look in her eyes that I saw in my own. Both of us were pained, both of us were alone, and both of us were confused. Arissa Warner is who I could have been, and that's when I realized exactly what I had to do. I would have wanted someone to do the same then; and so, I released my grip and threw.

The cannon fired almost immediately, however, the mystery behind her eyes didn't seem to quite fade. Arissa's body fell backwards, landing on top of Hugo's with a small smile etched onto her face. I knew I had done what she wanted now, yet I couldn't get rid of the guilt my soul was now being tortured with.

I couldn't get rid of the blood on my hands.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN **

_The girl seemed to be a natural, gliding gracefully around the training floor. Acrobatics were her specialty, doing almost as well as the best Career Tribute. The Gamemakers were highly impressed with her skills, awarding her the same score as the District One boy. Afterwards, her Mentors were equally surprised, convinced that District Three would be bringing home a Victor once more…_

An axe flew towards Jade before any of us had even turned around, the cannon firing before she even hit the ground. Caine, Kitty, and I jerked our heads in the direction is came from, almost seeming shocked to see Aspen standing there with narrowed eyes. For whatever reason, Aspen had decided to kill Jade, and to her credit, she picked a pretty opportune moment to do so. And now with only four Tributes in the arena, all alliances were terminated, splitting up the temporary protection I had from Caine. Though, the towheaded boy seemed only interested in killing Aspen, lurching forward at her with fury in his eyes.

Kitty and I merely glanced at each other, knowing what would have to happen next. The two of us would inevitably fight, or, we could use the same method Aspen had used on Caine. It could work, though I couldn't think of a way to exactly voice my opinion. All I could do is stand and watch Caine tackle Aspen, crushing the young girl under his grip. Once more, I felt myself step forward, yet a peculiar thing stopped me. I turned around, convinced that I had felt an icy hand on my back, yet no one was there. Blinking slightly, I bit my lip, worried that insanity had actually taken hold upon me, as the day was bright and sunny. It was perfect weather for the Capitol to pick up the latest in a long, long chain of Victors.

Aspen's small frame was engulfed by the larger one of Caine, the later using a knife to repeatedly stab the poor girl. Each time, she'd scream slightly, Caine always making sure she wouldn't die. Not just yet; he needed revenge, yet besides being his District Partner, no one knew all too much about Jade. In her interview, she was slightly closed off about such matters, deeming them unimportant, I suppose.

"_Jade Abney volunteered- a large blonde boy, might have been her brother, even cheered her on for it…"_

"Caine…," I called, for once not scared of the raging Tribute, "What was her brother's name?"

He didn't answer, instead continuing his torturing of the helpless girl. Aspen's eye had been gouged out, her voice hoarse from screaming in agony. If we hadn't had to watch the Hunger Games each year of our lives, I probably would have thrown up then and there, that is, if I actually had enough food in my stomach to throw up. Overall, there was no way she'd survive, and that's when Caine finally dealt her the worst blow he possibly could; he walked away, leaving her to wither in agony, dying painfully and slowly. The District Seven girl's blonde hair looked to be a dark red color, increasing in intensity each second as the blood flowed slowly.

I couldn't help but remember my sister, falling lifelessly to the ground after a sprint, the blade of a knife embedded in her back. Even though it had been six years, I still remember it like it was yesterday. And each time I think about it, even now, I shed a small tear, hoping that she's okay, that she's in a better place. My mother must have been with her, causing a brief speck of envy to rise, and then quickly sink into a sea of despair. I shouldn't be jealous of my sister, the one who did so many wonderful things for me…I used to feel mad that she volunteered for Maria, even though it was quite the nice thing for her to do. Part of me suspected that Dad felt the same, yet we never really talked that much about the Hunger Games, more content to just push it to the back of our mind and plague our dreams instead.

"P-P-Please…," Aspen stuttered.

Caine ignored her, glancing at me, before briskly walking forward. He picked up a sword, lying abandoned on the floor, and stood directly in front of me. My heart rate increased, myself gripping my throwing stars a little more, giving only a slight comfort. I stared at him, trying to seem every bit as confident, though I doubted that I did. I was just Caitlyn Smith, just a girl from District Three; he was Caine Areon, the last true Career in the arena, hailing from District Two. All the odds said that he would win, and that I would fall, and I hated myself for listening to him.

"His name is Cato," Caine said quietly.

I think that normally, I would have shrugged slightly, as that name did seem typical of District Two. But glancing over at Jade's body, which the hovercraft won't come in to pick up until this little bloodbath is done, I nodded slightly instead. Jade was just killed right in front of me; I could give the girl from District Two this respect. Which brought to mind that all three volunteers of this year's Hunger Games were dead now, leaving only four in an arena that had held twenty four. Needless to say, my anxiety about what I knew Caine was planning to do was accompanied by loneliness.

The atmosphere was sullen and grave, the silence only broken by the sound of Aspen's cannon going off. Neither of us turned to look, though, I was mildly surprised she had died so quickly with those wounds. Caine snarled slightly, obviously mad that the girl had escaped his punishment so soon, yet the blonde beast in front of me didn't seem like the type to care. One day, I intend to find out just exactly what Jade had been to Caine, and maybe, what Caine had been to Jade. Too bad at least one, if not both of them, would be dead. I could always ask their Mentors, or hack into the Capitol's security footage for the Training Center…Though I'm not all too sure I want to know that badly. Maybe some things are best left alone.

As if by silent agreement, the two of us began to fight for our lives.

He swung his sword at me, sloppily, making it easy for me to duck. Taking my advantage, I swept his feet with my legs, knocking him to the ground. Caine's sword landed on the grass with a thud, creating a slight imprint. Sneering slightly, he did the same to me, and had the same result, except for my weapon scraped against my own hand, drawing my own blood. Scooting away from him as fast as I could, I tried my hardest to avoid him getting on top of me. There wouldn't be anyone to rescue me this time, as I'm pretty sure Kitty would have fled by now, making sure that she'd be able to live another day. The feast must have been going on for a while, as the sun was now high in the sky, glaring down on the two of us.

A punch to the face brought me right back to my senses, a new stream of blood alerting me that he had just broken my nose. Luckily, I'd always been a mouth breather, so it wasn't all too hard to adapt. Mainly, it just hurt a lot, prompting me to raise my knees to my chest and kick out. I hit dead on, temporarily knocking the wind out of him; he must have been tired to start with, since no self respecting Career would have behaved this way. Once again, good fortune must have been mine, something that I'll be ever so grateful for. Without it, it's very likely that I'll die in the arena today. Then again, it's still very likely that I won't make it even with it.

Each time Caine swung his arm up for another punch, I chucked a throwing star at him, still inching away as best as I could. Though I don't think any of them connected, a sound of pain occurred, so it must have been successful. My eyesight must not have been as good as I thought, I concurred, as the yelps kept on happening in quick succession. Eventually, my back hit the steel table, letting me know that I really couldn't keep on going any farther like this. So shakily, I rose to my feet, watching Caine struggled slightly to do the same. Upon further examination, teeth marks covered his legs, and bruises acted like a fine wrapping paper as well. No doubt, it had happened from whatever creation or catastrophe the Gamemakers had sent after him. Briefly, I wondered if Jade had been with him, or had her encounter been separate as well.

"It's me and you then…," Caine spat, "Twelve won't stand a chance and you know it."

I felt exasperated at him, tired of all the blood and death. All I wanted to do was to go home, and he wasn't exactly helping right now. I leaned slightly against the silver table, fumbling behind me as I felt for what could very well let me win the Games. If there was throwing stars in my tiny pouch, and I doubted that Caine would bother to pay attention to such a miniscule item, then I could use that to my advantage. Three throws would be the maximum number to take him down, and then all I'd have to worry about is Kitty, who'd hopefully be a lesser challenge then the Career leader. Then, then I'd get to go home. My spirit lifted up, if only for but a moment and I slowly reached inside the pouch. I'd need to keep him talking though, or he might pay more attention to my movements then I'd like.

"I don't know…I think she could take you any day," I told him tauntingly.

His eye twitched, lumbering towards his sword so he could deliver his own special version of Capital Punishment. Dad actually used to tell me about it, since generations ago all of the children had to know it, and this requirement had been passed down through the Smith family. If someone ever needed to create a place for artifacts or learn about history, they'd just need to go to my dad and they'd be all set. Of course, some of the things seemed rather odd to me, but I figured it was just because of the primitive civilization. Or the advanced civilization, since I can't call the Hunger Games anything but primitive and illogical.

"Care to bet on that?" Caine asked menacingly.

Shrugging, I felt carefully at the object in my hand and bit back a grin. Yes, it was indeed my precious throwing stars, placed right here for me. In fact, if I turned around right now, I bet each one of these packs would have a glorious weapon in it, just waiting to help me. Well, just waiting to help me defend myself, though that is about the same thing as murder when it comes to the Hunger Games. I'd just have to make sure Caine didn't know about the new supply force, and keep him believing that it was merely items like medicine and such, which I knew for a fact we received tons of from the Cornucopia. For once, I could truly say, 'ignorance is bliss,' though I really meant that Caine's ignorance was bliss for me, and not the other way around or any other combination of the phrase.

"Don't have any moment," I replied, "But…What I do have…"

Caine raised an eyebrow, "Is?"

I smiled to myself, and then settled back into a grim expression. Quick as lightning, I threw every single throwing star at him, hitting his veins and other areas. Each time it hit, he sank a little closer to the ground, blood beginning to spill out of his mouth. Curiously, one more cannon fired off, but it couldn't have been Caine's. The boy in question barely managed to hold onto life, coming forward with his arm outstretched, determined to kill me. Hopping up onto the table, I felt a bit woozy, discovered that my stitches had come out.

My own blood mixed with his, creating a stick dark red substance that covered everything around us. The once silver table was now crimson, the numbers on the packs unidentifiable, and each of us looking like what people had called Martians. My prep team would be horrified if they had to clean me up, yet I'm sure they had special people at the Capitol designated just for the purpose. Either way, they'd be cleaning up one of our bloody messes soon enough; neither one of us would be able to last very long right now.

"Filth…," Caine muttered, pulling on my leg, "dirty…dirty…filth!"

I opened my mouth to reply, yet instead I slipped, falling off of the table. In other cases, it might not have been so bad, yet I was literally seeing red all around me. My life felt like it was ebbing away as Caine reached out, trying his hardest to claw out my eyes and rip out my tongue. He wanted to make me an Avox, I realized, something that I found to be highly ironic. But that didn't matter right now; all that mattered was keeping one hand firmly on my stomach, in an attempt to stop the bleeding of the deep and reopened wound. The other hand was responsible for fending off Caine's many attempts, getting more and more desperate as the light faded from each of our eyes.

Just then, I felt like the arena seemed to fade away. I was back in the room with that odd boy, yet this time his butler was holding cloth bandages. He opened his mouth as if to speak, yet promptly shut if. Evidently, this imagined person was horrified at my condition and sent his butler over at once. Leaning down next to me, the glasses slid off his face, and behind it, I saw the darkest color I'd ever seen in eyes; the color of blood. I chocked slightly, hands that I couldn't see on my throat, yet then it all vanished, leaving me in the arena once more.

The boy from District Two was strangling me, making it so I couldn't breathe at all. Scarily, I somehow knew that I didn't have much time left, and that's when I did the only thing I could think of doing. I shakily picked up my blood stained hand, and now using both, I drove them into his eyes. An immense squishy feeling, accompanied by his cries of agony soon came, and I tried my hardest not to vomit what little blood I had left.

I felt like I spent hours in that position, driving in my thumbs further each time his cries seemed to lessen. Truly, I wished that I could have spared him this death, yet I couldn't have. If I did, he would have done much worse to me, and feel not the slightest tinge of guilt. I knew that much would be true, coming from years of watching the Hunger Games and seeing the interview with my sister's killer. They didn't care then, they didn't care now, and they won't care later; that's just how it worked.

Caine coughed up a mouthful of blood, spraying it all over my face. It triggered my own coughing, coating us in each other's blood once more. It almost felt like the world wanted my skin to turn red, my hair to be ginger, and my eyes to be haunting. In fact, that might have been exactly what the Capitol wanted, though I hoped that would never actually happen.

His last words were stutters, "I-I…J-Jade…you…L-lo…"

The cannon fired off, leaving me alone in the arena. I couldn't stand up; I couldn't even smile as I realized that I was the Victor. I couldn't daydream for a bit about going home; all I could do was sit with Caine's body on top of me, spewing out more blood than I thought was possible. At this rate, I'd surely die in minutes if the Capitol didn't come get me soon, and there was no way they'd let that happen to their Victor. They needed their Victor; it was practically a rule of life for them. And so, I wasn't all too surprised when the voice of Claudius Templesmith filled the arena.

"It is my honor to present the Victor of the Seventy Third annual Hunger Games, Caitlyn Smith from District Three!"

On the inside, I was smiling a bit as they swooped in and lifted me up. For once, I didn't even mind as the image of the strange boy appeared, or as the Capitol people looked at me with wide eyes. I was just me, Caitlyn Smith from District Three, and I was going home.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER NINETEEN **

_Each of them were dressed in gears, a shinning silver color that reflected the flashes of lights. The duo smiled and waved at the Capitol, carefree being their most defining personality trait. Best of friends, the two of them were, and would always be. Neither would leave the other until the very end…_

Vaguely, I remember a team of Capitol doctor's assessing me. They were startled at not being able to find my heart, but after closer inspection, they discovered it was shifted towards the right more than considered normal. If I had been able to speak, I could have informed them it was a birth defect, but I found pain in just about each movement. Slowly but surely, my eyes slid shut as several life sustaining tubes were hooked up to my body. The strange boy, whom I was positive was not real at all, frowned slightly and attempted to come closer. For some odd reason, he wasn't able to; I felt rather glad of that.

The next few days I spent asleep, dreaming of beautiful meadows, each of them with my quaint little house. I'd run inside, the warm buzz of bees filling the air as the sunlight shone upon each single flower. Looking around, I'd see Jenny lying down on the floor, a dusty old textbook with fraying pages in front of her. She looked exactly the way I remembered hair; odd white hair, pretty blue eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. An older woman rested on the couch, and I wasn't all too sure who she was, but she had Jenny's eyes. I pushed the thought aside, going into the tiny kitchen where I finally found Dad. He looked up at me, and eyed me, finally giving a small grin that I was home at last. Hugging me, I noticed that his tweed jacket had a strange, unfamiliar smell that I couldn't quite place. Dad then led me back into the living room, in which Jenny and the strange woman still remained. Still feeling confused as to who she was, I opened my mouth to ask, but I never did find out, as I woke up to a fierce hug, not remembering the dream at all.

Blinking slightly, I saw the person had curly purple hair with silver streaks. I tried to sit up as best as I could, surprised as the pain that had lingered in my stomach had vanished. The wound must have been fully healed and taken care of by the team of doctors, none of which remained in the sickly sterile white room. The person, whom I guessed must have been Reiyla Kwerie, my odd and colorful escort, stood up and straightened her dress. Today, it was pinwheel of colors, with a tiny golden badge on the upper left that read, 'ALL ACCESS PASS.'

"You're awake!" She cheered.

Smiling slightly at her, I nodded and went back to looking myself over. No scar, gash, or wound that had been inflicted upon me in the perilous arena remained on my body. My skin was now smooth and flawless, and my hair as soft as silk, left down to cover the back of my shoulders. Tracing the spot my largest wound had been with my index finger, the slight tingling sensation I would have expected did not occur. These doctors must have been miracle workers, and I'm certain that none of the District doctors would have been able to do this. District doctors would most likely never be able to do this, since otherwise the Capitol would fear a rebellion, and they certainly would not allow that to happen anytime soon. Everyone knew it; everyone thought it, and everyone kept their mouths firmly shut about the matter.

Reiyla sat down on the bed next to me, passing over a minuscule bowl of soup. I would have complained, had I not seen the reasoning behind it. If they had let me eat to my heart's content, my poor stomach wouldn't have been able to hold any of it down, spewing it all over the place. So for the next week or so, they'd slowly nurse me back to reasonable condition, and that's when I'd be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman once more, only this time as a Victor. My escort smoothed out her dress, the bright colors of it contrasting with the sterile and clinical room. Reiyla seemed to honestly enjoy that I had came back alive, and not because of the prospect of being moved up to District Two, or perhaps even promoted to District One. I found it odd that someone from the Capitol could care so much for someone like me, so much so that I didn't even register that the intrusions from the unreal had left while I was out.

The escort paused, watching as I gulped down noodle after noodle, "You did so well…And without pissing anyone off, too," she smiled slightly, "that's actually harder then it seems. Some of the people who are in the charge of the Games can be rather…uppity."

Merely nodding, I finished eating each noodle and little slice of chicken in the soup. Feeling hungry still, I tipped the bowl and drained the broth. My throat felt warm and moist, the liquid scalding slightly, though I enjoyed the sensation. It reminded me a bit of what life had used to be like, and even now, I understood that it could never be that way again. Dad must have known it too; I kind of hoped he did, since it's likely we'll be forced to take that tenth house in Victor's Village. The Capitol would be furious if we refused them, likely resulting in them killing someone I cared about just to make a point. But maybe Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria could live with us as well, and that huge house may not seem so empty. I didn't have an answer for my own question; I'd just have to wait and see.

Reiyla attempted conversation once more, "Kayt and Kristor said you did very well. The other Victors from Three thought so too…They're happy for you."

Thinking for a minute, I mentally ran down the list of Victors. Beetee and Wiress were two of my favorites, though I think Kristor and Kayt had topped them. After all, I probably owe my life to them; in fact, I do since they were the ones to send me the stitches. If they had done something differently, I certainly would not be able to call myself a Victor. I'd be at home already, in a little oak box just like Jenny had been placed in. Instead, I get to come home and see Dad again, but more importantly, I'll still be breathing.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, my voice sounding hoarse; I musn't have used it in days.

She paused, "Around a week or so. You're scheduled to see Caesar today, after Sheehan makes the finishing touches on your dress…President Snow didn't want to delay any longer," Reiyla shrugged slightly, as if I didn't matter all too much.

"Oh," I replied.

Hopefully I wasn't in too bad shape, which I didn't appear to be. I suppose that's really all the mattered, since it was a TV broadcast, so it wouldn't require much physical stuff besides walking onto the stage. Without Reiyla's approval, I swung my legs to the side of the bed, and stood. A slight queasy sensation erupted, causing me to take deep breaths and close my eyes. Reiyla's hand brushed mine, trying to make sure that I was okay. It must have been pretty scary for her, to see me suddenly stand up and close my eyes. That's when I realized that Reiyla had seen my slight breakdown in the Hunger Games; no doubt, she must have been afraid for my sanity.

"Come on," she commanded, "Sheehan's waiting for you in the next room over."

Following her into the room, I saw a familiar man with messy brown hair and a matching tailcoat. He sat at a desk, scribbling furiously down on a paper. His movements were erratic and odd, which led me to believe that he wasn't drawing, yet designing something. Finally, he huffed and slouched into his chair. The paper he had worked so hard on was crinkled up and thrown away with exasperation, and received not another thought. For the man, whom I knew as Sheehan, turned around and broke into a wide grin.

"Hello again, Miss Caitlyn," he greeted, "glad to see you're all right."

Nodding, I said, "Nice to see you again, Sheehan."

Grinning, he pulled me over to the mirror and had me look at myself. It must have been to help me show that I was still me, and if that was the case, then he was right. My blonde hair still went to about half way down my back, and my soft brown eyes mirrored those of my father's. An ugly white hospital gown covered my small frame, making me look taller than I knew I was. Still, the warm cottony material was welcome; we didn't get great clothing back in District Three.

In District Three, we lived in poverty and were starving on the streets. Back in the Dark Days, our District had been one of the first to rebel. Supposedly, we used to be very wealthy, and might have stayed that way if it hadn't been for District Thirteen. The people of my District might have even ended up like Districts One, Two, and Four; the pets of the Capitol. Careers might have come from here, and for that reason, I'm slightly glad that we rebelled. It showed our determination, our spirit, and helped our future generations from growing up shallow and misinformed. We'd just have to make do with our bite sized rolls, bland and not all too common, and be thankful we were not nearly as bad off as District Twelve. Kitty and Jay's faces flashed into my head, dampening my mood, if not only for a second.

"So, I found an interesting little tidbit in my good ole textbook I thought you'd like," Sheehan commented, "blue and gold. They were symbolic colors in medieval times, and though the translation is lost, it comes out to have a meaning close to the Games. What do you think?"

Blinking slightly, I chuckled a bit at how quickly Sheehan would talk. Most people in the Capitol seemed to chirp at you, though the speed was significantly less. Each of their statements would sound like a question as well, which made me very glad that Reiyla had been gifted with a unique accent. Even if it was probably faked, coming naturally from years of practice, it made it quite easier to talk to her. For instance, my prep team was incredibly hard to stand after listening to for hours on end as they shaved each little hair off of your body. Still, at least they were trying, and succeeded, in helping me in their own little quirky way.

"…It won't make anyone mad, will it?" I asked, recalling what Reiyla had mentioned earlier about the temper of the Gamemakers.

The stylist paused, then frowned, "…You're right…Our glorious President _certainly _wouldn't approve…Which is why the design lays in yonder trash binny bin bin."

Sheehan cracked a maddening grin again, laughing off his former misfortune. Spinning around, he walked imperiously over to the rack and pulled down a garment bag. I knew that inside it resided that dress I'd wear in front of Panem, though it wouldn't be the last one. After the Hunger Games, each Victor would have to do a customary Victory Tour to each of the Districts, with their own District being the last visited. Sheehan would most likely have a field day, and perhaps enlist the help of Julie, to find a different dress for me to wear at each one. I figured it was a small price to pay for the benefits of being a Victor, but more so, a small price to pay in exchange for my continued existence.

"Now," he instructed, his face forming into a serious mask, "what's in this dress may very well blind you…So don't blink, okay…? If you can follow that logic!"

Snickering, he tore the garment bag apart and dropped it carelessly on the floor. Sheehan may have been one of my best friends in the Capitol, yet even he had traces of their mindset. Back home, or in any of the Districts I'm certain, no one would have wasted that bag. We could have repurposed it; built something from it, fixed something with it, or saved it until we had a use. Yet here in the Capitol, they didn't need to worry about that, making me wonder how they still ruled over us. Surely, we would have been able to rebel after seventy three years of being forced into the wickedest pageant ever. And shouldn't we have been able to succeed when we rebelled in the Dark Days? The answer had been drilled into our heads since we were small, right up there with the Abc's and the Quadratic Equation song; the Capitol was simply too mighty and too strong for us puny Districts to other throw.

"Picture yourself in this!" Sheehan grinned, triumphantly holding up the dress.

It was a dark blue color, with lighter blues mixed in to it. From the design, I could tell it was meant to hug and emphasize my curves, since according to Reiyla my sixteenth birthday was in fact today. This marked the first time I couldn't celebrate it with my father, something I could not deny being sad and disappointed about. On the bright side, at least I still walked this Earth when I turned sixteen years of age. Silver sparkles were scattered over the dress, giving off the impression of twinkling stars at night. A shinning moon necklace hung off of the hanger, soft golden color that seemed to glow, just like it always had looked like from my quaint old house. The dress reminded me so much of home, tears gathering in my eyes as I hugged Sheehan, already dreading the day I'd have to say goodbye to him.

"I take it I hit it spot on, eh?" he teased.

"Pfft...," I chuckled, "You're just too brilliant for your own good."

Sheehan straightened up, smirking slightly. Evidently, he quite enjoyed being told that he was brilliant. For some curious reason, he reminded me of Kristor, though I'd never really seen my Mentor act cocky in his time as a Victor. This brought to my attention that I had yet to see Kristor and Kayt, meaning our meeting was most likely scheduled for after my session with Caesar Flickerman. Hopefully, the interviewer had gotten rid of his bloody red hairdo, which disturbing looked like the last fleeting images of Caine, the very ones that I knew I'd never be able to forget. As much as I knew I'd try, they'd remain in my dreams, turning the beautiful visions into the most terrible nightmares. My sleep would probably be restless and short, though hopefully I'd be okay and be spared what just about each Victor from each District suffered through.

"I know," Sheehan commented proudly, "Well, as my father said, allons-y! Get that dress on! Caesar wants us in an hour max!"

Laughing slightly at his odd patterns of speech, I carefully took the beautiful dress after taking off my drab robe. I had long since gotten over any qualms of people looking at my naked body, and when it was just Sheehan, it felt like he was the older brother I never had. He certainly couldn't replace my father, yet he slightly filled the gaping hole created from Jenny's death. Sheehan didn't fit exactly right, yet he held the charring edges together.

And more importantly, he never let go.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

_The two of them crowded into the room, the much younger bawling her eyes out. It pained her heart to see her little sister, her little Mosdrashy, to act like this. Yet the strong faced girl never regretting her decision, even as the original came in and said she had no need to do it. She felt that she did need to, adamant as she charged up onto that stage just hours before, not caring of the consequences that were soon to come…_

Dressed in the starry blue dress, my prep team swarmed me like playful birds. Fortunately, the job the Capitol doctors had done on my skin seemed to satisfy them, sparing me from having each hair on my legs ripped off. Not to mention, I avoided being sprayed with the power hose they called a shower nozzle, which would have left my skin red, seemingly inflamed. Though, that didn't stop them from scrubbing my face with some wacky three step process, and putting a layer of foundation over to cover any imperfections. Over the years of watching Victor's, I still found it funny that they were being displayed as perfect, when they, I mean we, clearly we're not at all. It'd take some time getting used to being a Victor, probably even longer than adjusting to becoming a Career Tribute.

Ezra's now straightened hair was a rainbow of colors, and Quorra had dyed a smiley face into hers. Only Jai Li looked relatively the same, moody, aloof, and uncaring throughout. Ezra and Quorra chattered away at me that whole time, congratulating me and seeming thrilled to see me alive. Honestly, I hadn't expected people from the Capitol to care wherever made it. But so far, Reiyla, Sheehan, Ezra, and Quorra all did, sending a burst of happiness into my heart. I knew that I wouldn't feel truly happy until I was home, but I knew I would miss all of my friends here greatly. You can't befriend someone whilst facing your doom and not start to care about wherever you'll see them again.

Each section of my hair was braided, and some parts were small, dainty little braids. However, there were two larger braids, and once it had all been done, they twisted it together on top of my head, pinning it there. Silver strands with little stars on them were added in, before they sprinkled me with a shimmery dust. When they were done, I felt like the night sky, a beautiful light blue eyes shadow furthering the starry effect. By far, this must have been my favorite one of Sheehan's designs, topping the dramatic Chariot costume he had designed in what seemed like ages ago. Basking in the memories, trying my hardest not to grieve over Quip, I barely noticed as Reiyla escorted me to the stage.

The Victor's chair sat there, right next to Caesar Flickerman. We'd all seen it at least twelve times by the time we were eligible for the Hunger Games, but it felt like I'd never seen it before. The chair was grand and extravagant, much like just about everything here in the Capitol. Dad told me that they showed you marvelous wonders, just to distract you from the horrors of reality. If a Peacemaker had heard him, they would hang him without another thought. Luckily though, we didn't have very many neighbors, so no one was around to hear. And if someone did hear, it wasn't rather likely at all that they'd tell on someone else in the District; when it came to those kinds of things, they'd receive the same punishment too, to keep the information dead.

"And now, let's welcome back this year's Victor, Caitlyn Smith!" Caesar announced, causing the entire audience to burst into applause, and a few people even stood up with wide grins.

Loud music was playing, a joyous sound to it as I sat down, sparkling in the light. My dress contrasted a bit with the happy atmosphere, though I knew it wouldn't last too much longer. Probably, I was one of the few people who knew that, the others actually enjoying the final clip of this year's Hunger Games. Dread filled me from top to bottom; I didn't want to watch the deaths of the people I killed, and the deaths of the people I wished were never killed. Those people were all the same, and each one of them could never run, could never breathe, could never smile, and could never laugh again. Deep down, I knew it wasn't true, yet I couldn't help but feel that this was entirely my fault in each and every possible way.

Fortunately, Caesar must have realized how garish his previous outfit had seemed. This time, he wore something similar, yet it had more of a festive and upbeat feel to it. His suit was a mix of colors, reminding me of the pinwheel like dress Reiyla had chosen to wear today. Glancing over towards where I knew she would be sitting, it was quite easy to identify her in the vast crowd. My stomach flip flopped, seeing her speaking with a young man with icy blonde hair, disturbingly alike to the one I kept on seeing in those peculiar visions. This one looked older though, and most certainly was real, so I pushed it aside. Perhaps I had seen him before and my subconscious was trying to get me to remember him? It was the best theory I could come up with, and sadly, it didn't even have evidence to prove it.

"Nice to see you again, Caesar," I greeted, grinning slightly.

He returned an ever broader smile, "You as well, Caitlyn…Now, how exactly did you pair up with the Careers? And I must say you did splendidly!"

I knew it was intended as a compliment. Still, I couldn't help but wish that Quip was here and that I wasn't. After working so hard to stay alive, I realized that I really was only doing it for Dad, and not for me. Sure, it'd be nice to keep on breathing for as long as possible, but maybe someone else in the arena deserved it more than I did. Too bad it's too late to find out now. Only guilt would sprout if I chose to ask, and I didn't intentionally try to make myself feel horrible, so I doubted that I ever would know. That list seemed to be getting longer and longer each passing minute, much to my displeasure. Being a know-it-all ran in my family, not even my carefree sister could be an exception to that rule.

"I don't know," I admitted, "Qu-Quip arranged the entire thing…Guess it's one of the great unsolved mysteries now."

Despite my best efforts, I felt shaken up upon thinking of my fallen District Partner. He was the only person from home in the arena with me, a special bond that no Tribute, Career or not, would be able to deny. When you're forced to fight to the death, you tend to cling to what you got, and right then, Quip and my tiny little token were it. The little piece of wire was safely tucked away, frayed from when I'd pluck at it during sleepless nights after Quip's death. Most of the time, I had tried not to acknowledge its presence, but now, I couldn't help but flash images of it in my mind.

Caesar nodded, "He always seemed a bit different from the others," he smiled slightly, "'course, we all had our money on you, Miss Victor!"

Somehow, I couldn't help but return Caesar's smile; he did have over forty years of practice with Tributes and Victors, "Oh really?"

"Really," he confirmed, "So, how 'bout we play a little clip we made just for you?"

The question was a mere formality, since they'd have to play it wherever I wanted them to or not. Still, I could get into trouble if I didn't respond politely, and there wasn't any reason I wanted a visit from our 'glorious' President Snow. Rumors and stray whispers revealed ghastly and terrible things that he'd done, and disturbingly, no one had trouble believing them. Outspoken people would disappear, caused by what seemed to be factory explosions or vandals, but no one really bought it. They bred us to be clever in District Three, and that's exactly what we were; we were clever beyond the Capitol's broad imagination. And so, I nodded quickly at Caesar, reminding myself of the way Kristor's head had jerked, seemingly painful actually.

A screen, conveniently located behind Caesar and I, zapped into life. Music filled the speakers, the soft music of a piano easily identifiable. In gold, the words, 'District Three Reaping,' appeared, looking large and bold against the blackness. After a few seconds, they slowly faded out, replaced with an image of Reiyla Kwerie in her signature Reaping hairstyle of electric blue curls. Her dress, a soft icy color, seemed a bit dull in the camera, something which would have bothered Effie Trinket, the District Twelve Escort. For a second, a blurry shot of the fifteen year old girls and I popped up, no doubt an attempt at getting in a pre-reaping reaction. It snaps back to Reiyla, right as she begins to walk over to the glass bowls, full of thousands upon thousands of slips.

_"Well, with no further ado, let's see who our lovely lady will be!" _Reiyla said, soon adding, _"CAITLYN SMITH!"_

They didn't bother to show Quip, the next image being me stepping onto the train. My expression seemed to be one of mourning, and then I saw myself being swept off to the Capitol. Throughout the entire footage, they seemed to be painting the picture of the lonely girl facing the world against all odds, and managing to overcome it. At the Chariot rides, they zoomed in on my eyes, then splitting back to a picture of all of us. Thankfully, my eyes still looked brown, not altered or anything by odd Capitol products. Some Tributes had that done to them in the past, and found that their eyes were permanently purple when they left the arena, or ever worse, stuck the color yellow.

My training score was shown next, and then they launched into the arena. Basil Kobayashi's death made me look ruthless, just like the other Careers who were sprinting around the arena, taking out a Tribute with each blow. When Adam knocked me to the ground, the entire audience held their breath, despite knowing what happened. Ditie killed him, and nothing else of the bloodbath was shown. A few clips of me staring out into the arena were added, just to capitalize on the story they were skillfully weaving. I felt surprised that Quip didn't get shown all too much, though I guess they weren't telling a love story, so it didn't matter all too much to them, just to me.

Everyone I killed was shown in exquisite detail, and I tried to focus anywhere but the screen. It was one thing to do the deed, yet another to have people clap for it when watching it on tape. Others might have whooped and cheered in my position, though my features were an unmistakable expression of mourning. The audience didn't seem to notice though, cheering as Lily Gryffin died and I sprinted down after Quip. Unfortunately, they didn't show what Aspen had done to Amy, or what she had done to Ditie, though I could always watch my own Hunger Games to find out. I didn't think it was a very good idea; I didn't want to end up like Wiress, one of the less than sane Victors from my own District.

Finally, they showed the final battle at the Cornucopia. It started off with me arriving, the wolves hot on my heels. They circled me, growling and still looking just as fearsome as I remembered. Thankfully, they soon left and disappeared further into the trees, crouching slightly as if they were waiting for something. I looked cold hearted as I struck down Arissa, merely watching as her body fell to the ground. Each one of us could clearly see the fury in Apsen's eyes as she lightly threw her axe at Jade, causing us to fall into shock. Caine erupted into rage, just like I remembered, but this time I heard comments from the audience, murmurs about star crossed lovers. It all clicked into place, except for just one thing…

Kitty had run into the woods, my missing throwing stars stuck into her arm. She must have been the one I heard yelping, not Caine as I had thought then. She didn't stumble in the slightest, only shivering a bit when the Gamemaker created snow enveloped her, turning the slowly freezing forest into a winter wonderland. We only watched her walking, leaving a little trail of red, for around five minutes, but I knew it must have been longer. Caine and I had been fighting each other the entire time, and she must have wanted for us to finish each other off.

That's when the howling started. The wolves appeared out of the trees and surrounded her, causing her to scream from shock. Kitty timidly drew a small dagger, smeared with fresh blood, and held it in front of herself, in an attempt to have some protection. If they had been coming at her head on it might have worked, but sadly, that was not the case. A smaller wolf pounced on her from behind, tackling her to the ground face forward. Another trail of blood was added to the already existing one, covering the fresh snow in a sticky red. Growling, it sniffed her, pawing at her head until a crack of success was heard; by brute force, the Capitol wolf had cracked her skull. The other wolves joined in, mauling the poor girl from District Twelve, only ceasing when her cannon fired and she lay still.

The clip went back to the brawl between Caine and me, zooming in as I gouged out his eyes. I felt queasy, and no doubt would vomit soon. Thankfully, it actually occurred quicker than I remembered, and the video soon ended. At first, silence reigned over the room, but it didn't last all too long as the people of the Capitol broke into applause. Caesar Flickerman grinned at me, trying to get me to smile back, but I didn't this time. I was all too horrified at the final moments of the others, and all too guilty that I had caused some of it.

Caesar then quickly begun the actual interview, "If memory serves, you had a sister in the Games a few years back. What do you think she'd say if she were here?"

Biting my lip, I thought over Caesar's question, trying to answer honestly, "Well…She'd probably say she was glad that I won and not to let all the fame go to my head."

Caesar chuckled at that, giving the entire Capitol audience their cue to join in. It's almost sad how they have to be told how to react towards things, instead of choosing their own reaction. And it seemed to be just about everyone in the Capitol, with only a couple people being the exception. All of them seemed like mindless animals to me; as if they were no more than small children obeying their parents. They didn't know what things were really like in the Districts, only tiny little notions that didn't really get through to them. One thing I knew for sure is that I'd be glad when I finally got to leave this place, even if I'd have to return later.

"That does sound like her!" Caesar commented, "I don't think I asked you this before, but is there anyone special back home?"

Everyone leaned in, pitifully desperate to hear my answer. No, there really wasn't any guy back home waiting for me in that way. But there was the best person in the world, and some of my closest friends glad that I'd be returning to District Three. Before, I'd hoped that Luke might like me as more than a friend, yet it doesn't seem to matter anymore. I guess the Games changed me a little bit, as much as I hated to admit it. And so, I shook my head at Caesar, much to the disappointment of about every person in the room, with the exception of some grinning young men.

"Just Dad," I clarified, "And Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria are just about family to us."

Dad must have been watching, I thought, and so I tried to look a bit happier for him. I couldn't help but wonder if Sarah Jane and the others were watching with him, holding his hand. Honestly, I hoped that they were; that he wasn't sitting in our little house all by himself. That Dad wasn't as alone as I had felt sometimes here.

He nodded, "What's the first thing you plan to do when you get back to District Three?"

"Run as fast as I can until I'm home," I replied with a grin, "I've been looking forward to it."

My interviewer smiled at me, and in about a minute or so, it was done. Now, all I had to do was waiting for President Snow to come over here and crown me. Then I could do exactly what I wanted to; I could hop on a train and ride home as fast as I could possibly go. Though, I'd have to return the dress to Sheehan at some point, but I figured he wouldn't mind if I gave it back to him during the Victory Tour. After all, it's not like anyone else is going to be wearing it anytime soon. Not even the reenactments would be allowed to use these; instead they'd receive replicas, identical down to the very stitch, to use. I knew I didn't like the idea of someone from the Capitol pretending to be me, but I knew I had no choice in the matter; it was the same with every Victor of the Hunger Games.

Finally, an old white haired man walked over to me, carrying the crown. He smelled of roses and blood, only furthering the flip-flopping taking place in my stomach from the video. I wondered how anyone could stand to be near him, and more importantly, how he could stand to be near himself. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to the President all too often; since I didn't believe there was anything that said that I had to. President Snow looked me directly in the eye, kick starting a feeling of panic as he seemed to smile at me. I must have been supposed to smile back, yet I'm positive that my expression was one of someone incredibly nervous and frightened.

As he placed the crown on my head, the Capitol erupted in applause once more. Consequently, I'm sure I alone heard what President Snow half whispered to me. It sent chills down my spine and goose bumps running up and down my arms. Just by standing near him, I felt as if I was violated and in extreme danger. After some pondering, I decided that both of those were likely to be true in almost every way.

_"The lone warrior…," _President Snow had whispered, _"must always be that. Alone."_

Almost too quickly I was ushered off the stage, surrounded by my Mentors, Escort, Stylist, and Prep Team. Their voiced turned into a bothersome wind, loud and noisy, only there to distract you from what was really happening. I ignored them as best as I could, nod in the right places and murmuring small and simple words. What President Snow said frightened me, probably even more than it should, and it turned my queasy feeling into dread. A storm, I knew, must have been coming, and I won't like what it will do.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I'm writing this for some friends of mine with their characters, so if you recognize any one, they asked me to write them in. Also, this is my first Hunger Games piece, so please don't be mad if I got something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games in any way, shape, or form

**CHAPTER TWENTYONE **

_The three of them walked together, holding hands tightly as they whispered in hushed voices. The girl with white hair felt saddened to leave them, joining the other children in the pen. A chattering girl, yellow haired and small, announced the name that rocked her world. Everything felt upside down, and the doomed one was practically her sister. And so, she volunteered and stood on the stage. When Reiyla asked her name, she stared at them, and responded quietly that it was Jenny Smith…_

My beautiful dress lay abandoned on the floor, Quorra insisting that I should shower before going back to District Three. Knowing that she was right, I pushed away my feelings of fear and stepped inside of the tub. This time, the knobs and buttons were all labeled; an indulgence I supposed they only thought that Victors were fit for. I didn't need them really, twisting the knob until a steaming hot spray hit my body. It felt soothing, washing away the stray sparkles that remained in my hair, and a few that had worked their way onto my shoulder. I could have stayed like this for hours, my eyes closed as my troubles were slowly washed down the drain with the shimmering makeup. But I knew I couldn't; I had the weight of the world on my shoulders from now on, and someone would always expect something out of me. All of this, just because I managed to make myself do what I never thought I could. Surely, this shouldn't be celebrated, but in this situation, frowned upon.

Blueberry scented shampoo squirted into my hands, my fingers rubbing it into my soapy hair. Its scent reeked of its name, something I still found odd, since we had normal cleansing items back in District Three. Just enough to make sure our hair didn't matt and hang in our eyes, making programming the electronics for the Capitol a challenge. That's how we got most of the things actually; to benefit the Capitol, and to keep us living, if only barely. After I washed the shampoo and conditioner out of my hair, a lemon scented soap appeared at the mere press of a button. Once finished, all traces of the glamour and shine of the Capitol were gone, leaving just me, Caitlyn Smith from District Three.

Stepping out of the shower, the metal panel blasted hot air all over me, drying me and detangling my hair at once. It was pleasant, and I couldn't help but wonder if things like this would be in my home at Victors Village. There'd only be eight of us, leaving four empty houses for the next District Three Victors. I quite hoped that we'd win again next year, as I'd have to know, and possibly Mentor, those Tributes. Kristor and Kayt must have felt happy, knowing that they got to see at one of their first two, proving them to be successful. If I did have to Mentor next year, I hope that I'd at least get paired with one of them, since I actually know them better than the others.

Walking into my dressing room, I found a blue long sleeved shirt and black jeans already laid out for me. Smiling slightly, I pulled them on, sticking a pair of white socks on my feet, and lacing up the black sneakers. Glancing into the mirror, I looked even more like myself. In fact, I could easily see myself walking around District Three, delivering some parts to one of the main factories on my way to school. And what startled me even more so was that I still looked beautiful; the pretty girl Sheehan's outfits created was still here. It made me wonder if she had always been there, and I think that she was.

Soon, Reiyla led me into the steel elevators and pressed the button for the lowest floor. The atmosphere was certainly happy, and it only bubbled as my Mentors joined us. Kristor seemed to be grinning, looking proud and confident while Kayt seemed to have a satisfactory gaze. No matter how questionable they were, a bond had formed between all of us that I doubted anything could sever. This is what happened between Victors and for once, I didn't mind at all. Not even the assaults of cheering that occurred as we walked outside and then climbed into the train could ruin my mood in the slightest.

"We got a new model, Caitlyn," Reiyla said with a grin, sitting down at the dining table, "District Six just produced this puppy last week! We'll be back in District Three in record time!"

She motioned for me to sit down next to her, and I complied. Reiyla's hair was now a soft bronze color, with little moving gears weaved into it. Without asking, we all knew that it was symbolic of the District Three Victory, and how proud she was. An elegant feast was put down for us, a slightly familiar Avox being the one who served it. Smiling at me, I grinned back upon recalling that his name was Algernon; he had been with me on the train coming here. Even if I only saw him for about a day, I still wanted to know his story. I wanted to know what this sweet looking boy had done to anger the Capitol; though, I suppose it wasn't all too hard to push their buttons.

"How fortunate," Kayt commented, sitting across from us next to Kristor, their hands entwined together.

Kristor grinned slightly, and then reached forward for a drink. Almost instantly, a young Avox girl filled it for him to the brim. He nodded merely at her, and she retreated back into the corner. I couldn't help but look at her, and take in everything. Her hair was blonde, the color of falling snow, and her eyes were like ice. Oddly, she couldn't have been older than eleven, tiny and short in stature making even that hard to believe. The red tunic she wore looked like bloodshed, eerily reminding me of my most recent horrors. What had she done, I also wondered, what was her name? Doubting that I'd be allowed to ask, I nicknamed her Isis in my mind, after a myth my father had once told me. The name seemed to suit her, and I swear that she smiled at me a little right as I nicknamed her.

Filling up my plate with food, my stomach rumbled, alerting me to my Hunger. Reiyla frowned slightly upon seeing how much I had taken, yet I heeded her no mind. If I threw up, well, it's not my train. And in fact, it's the Capitol's train so I didn't see any reason to care. Perhaps it mattered to Reiyla; since I'm positive she'll be taking this train back to her home right after Kristor, Kayt, and I are dropped off in District Three. But couldn't she get an Avox to clean it up for her? Oh well…No point in pondering the insane notions of the Capitol citizens and such; the only result of that is a pounding headache from trying to comprehend them. Swallowing down some strangely spicy noodles, accompanied with chicken and an odd sauce, it warmed me just as much as the shower did.

"You'll be home soon," Reiyla pointed out, "Don't gorge yourself or you'll end up looking like Haymitch Abernathy at each District Twelve Reaping."

Remembering the way Reiyla had looked at the Mentor in question; I couldn't help but giggle slightly. I must have sounded like Kayt, but I didn't care right now. In fact, Kayt even joined in on the laughing as Reiyla's perfectly plucked eyebrow rose higher and higher until I could hardly believe it. Its odd yellow color made it blend into her skin, which had been distastefully, well in my opinion, dyed an almost identical color. How'd she have the time to change her clothing this much anyways? It didn't make any sense, since we left almost immediately after I got dressed in more comfortable clothing. I'd have to find out later, as her face was now turning a deep shade of red, causing her to quiver. Instantly, Kayt and Kristor ceased laughing, and I followed their example. Smiling slightly, Reiyla too calmed down and began sipping her drink like nothing had ever happened.

Just like Reiyla said, the journey back to District Three was significantly shorter. I gazed out the window, seeing the familiar trees and sloping hills in my home, a slight smile gracing my face. The quick journey was almost over, and I'd get to see Dad again. I'd get to see everyone again; I'd get to be home. Happiness radiated from me, rolling off in layers and affecting just everyone around me. Even Isis started to grin, playfully poking Algernon, who looked like he could be her older brother. I wondered if this could have been the case, though I wasn't all too sure if I would be allowed to ask them. Capitol people came up with some funny rules, things that I still couldn't quite understand.

The train came to a halt, the cheers already audible and the cheerers already visible. A majority of the District stood out there, welcoming home their newest Victor since Kristor had one. Grinning, I dashed over to the train door, only to be stopped by Reiyla. She stared at me, her eyes a bit sad yet filled with warmth, and enveloped me in a crushing embrace. Slightly surprised, I hugged back after a second, somehow feeling safe. I hadn't felt like this with someone other than Dad in about six years, and I doubted I ever would again. These curious people, Reiyla and Sheehan, had somehow wormed their way into my heart, and didn't leave holes; they mended them.

Pulling away, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Kristor stood there, his head only half a foot from the ceiling, and he nodded slightly at me. Kayt graced me with a smile, and I knew I wouldn't mind living near these two at all. In fact, I think it'd be quiet nice, and Dad should like them as well. An idea popped into my mind then, and I decided to invite Sarah Jane and the others to come live with us in Victor's Village. I've seen those houses every now and then, and I'm positive that they're just too big for Dad and I alone. At that word, I remembered what President Snow had said, and I shuddered, causing Reiyla to look at me questioningly.

"It's nothing," I whispered, pushing open the train doors.

Hopping out, light warmed my skin as I looked up at the sky for a fleeting second. It may have been the same one I saw in the Capitol, and in the arena, yet it felt different here. Here, in District Three, it felt safe and welcoming, instead of dark and menacing. Worries seemed to vanish, and I dropped my gaze to look at the crowd. Somewhere, a brown haired man was making his way towards me, desperate to see me once more. I tried to find him, wanting to see Dad as much as he wanted to see me.

And after about sixty seconds, I found him and sprinted as fast as I could towards him. He also ran towards me, scooping me up in a bone crushing hug as quickly as humanly possible. Dad smelt of pine trees, the very first thing I noticed as I clung to him tightly. Everything I had been holding in came out, the tears feeling hot and endless as they landed onto his coat. Neither one of us cared though, simply glad that we weren't alone anymore; President Snow was wrong, I decided, I wasn't alone. I had my father and my father had me, and that's all I could have wanted, if not more. I could feel Dad stroking my hair, murmuring soft and reassuring words as he began to walk towards our home. From the direction, I could tell that it wasn't the one in Victors Village, but the little house I grew up in.

"You did it, Lynnie," he whispered, "everything's going to be fine. I promise."

Nodding slightly, my eyes already began to feel puffy, even though my tears haven't ceased. I didn't stray my gaze from Dad, only seeing the little knickknacks in our home through the corner of my eye. I didn't want to live in Victor's Village, I realized, I wanted to live at home. And that huge and fancy house didn't meet that description at all, only the word being the same. Sarah Jane, Luke, and Maria could have that house if they wished, but I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn't want to be thought of as a monster, as a murderer of children. Simply, because that wasn't who I was; it didn't even come remotely close in my book.

"Nothing can come between us now," Dad added, wiping away my tears, "you're my baby girl…"

Only now did I stop crying, but only because I didn't think I could cry anymore. My tears had finally dried up, and with that came an understanding. In the Games, I didn't change, I merely grew up; I wasn't Dad's little girl anymore. Still, I hugged him tighter, not wanting to ever let go, because if I did…No, I didn't want to think about that. I didn't want to care about anything else, and so, I merely melted into Dad's warm embrace.

We sat in silence now, reminding me of when I was forced to say goodbye to him. Instead, there wouldn't be any more goodbyes like that happening again, or at least, that's how it was supposed to work. Our entire house was still, and neither of us took their eyes off of the other, not quite believing that they were really there. In the stillness, I felt as if I could feel the very Earth turning, signaling the passing of time as we revolved around the sun. And from looking into Dad's eyes, I knew that he could feel it to. Another thing, I suppose, to add to the list of things that made us Smiths special; that set us apart from the others. Because of this, we'd have to stick together, and try our hardest not to let go. Neither one of us wanted to be alone anymore, simply because it hurt too much.

And the best thing was that I'm not alone anymore. I'm finally and truly home, right where I belong.


End file.
